ELKAN 
LVBLINEF^ 


MONTAGVE    GLASS 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  CRUZ 


EX  LIBRIS 


LESLIE  T.  PEERY 


ELKAN  LUBLINER,  AMERICAN 


ELKAN    LUBLINER, 
AMERICAN 

BY  MONTAGUE  GLASS 

AUTHOR    OF 

"Potash  &  Perlmutter,"  "Abe  &  Mawruss," 
"Object:  Matrimony,"  etc. 


GARDEN  CITY        NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1912 


Copyright,  1911,  1912,  by 
THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1912,  by 
DOUBLED  AY,  PAGE  &  Co. 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


3313 
U 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Noblesse  Oblige        3 

Appenweier's  Account 33 

A  Match  for  Elkan  Lubliner 81 

Highgrade  Lines 147 

One  of  Esau's  Fables 196 

A  Tale  of  Two  Jacobean  Chairs        ....  250 

Sweet  and  Sour 288 


ELKAN  LUBLINER,  AMERICAN 


ELKAN   LUBLINER 

CHAPTER  ONE 
NOBLESSE  OBLIGE 

POLATKIN    &     SCHEIKOWITZ    CONSERVE    THE    HONOUR 
OF  THEIR  FAMILIES 

NU,  PHILIP,"  cried  Marcus  Polatkin  to  his 
partner,  Philip  Scheikowitz,  as  they  sat 
in  the  showroom  of  their  place  of  business 
one  June  morning,  "even  if  the  letter  does  got  bad 
news  in  it  you  shouldn't  take  on  so  hard.  When  a 
feller  is  making  good  over  here  and  the  Leute  im 
Russland  hears  about  it,  understand  me,  they  are 
all  the  time  sending  him  bad  news.  I  got  in  Minsk 
a  cousin  by  the  name  Pincus  Lubliner,  understand 
me,  which  every  time  he  writes  me,  y'understand, 
a  relation  dies  on  him  and  he  wants  me  I  should 
help  pay  funeral  expenses.  You  might  think 
I  was  a  Free  Burial  Society,  the  way  that  feller 
acts." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Philip  replied  as  he  folded  the 
letter  away;  "but  this  here  is  something  else  again. 
Mind  you,  with  his  own  landlord  he  is  sitting  playing 

3 


4  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

cards,  Marcus,  and  comes  a  pistol  through  the 
window  and  the  landlord  drops  dead." 

"What  have  you  got  to  do  with  the  landlord?" 
Polatkin  retorted.  "If  it  was  your  brother-in-law 
was  killed  that's  a  difference  matter  entirely;  but 
when  a  feller  is  a  landlord  im  Russland,  understand 
me,  the  least  he  could  expect  is  that  he  gets  killed 
once  in  a  while." 

"I  ain't  saying  nothing  about  the  landlord," 
Philip  protested,  "but  my  brother-in-law  writes 
they  are  afraid  for  their  lives  there  and  I  should 
send  'em  quick  the  passage  money  for  him  and  his 
boy  Yosel  to  come  to  America. 

Polatkin  rose  to  his  feet  and  glared  angrily  at 
his  partner. 

"Do  you  mean  to  told  me  you  are  going  to  send 
that  loafer  money  he  should  come  over  here  and 
bum  round  our  shop  yet?" 

"What  do  you  mean  bum  round  our  shop?" 
Philip  demanded.  "In  the  first  place,  Polatkin, 
I  ain't  said  I  am  going  to  send  him  money,  y'under- 
stand;  and,  in  the  second  place,  if  I  want  to  send 
the  feller  money  to  come  over  here,  understand  me, 
that's  my  business.  Furthermore,  when  you  are 
coming  to  call  my  brother-in-law  a  loafer  and  a 
bum,  Polatkin,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about.  His  Grossvater,  olav  hasholem,  was  the  great 
Harkavy  Rav,  Jochannon  Borrochson." 

"I  heard  that  same  tale  before,"  Polatkin  inter- 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  5 

rupted.  "A  feller  is  a  Schlemiel  and  a  lowlife  which 
he  couldn't  support  his  wife  and  children,  understand 
me,  and  it  always  turns  out  his  grandfather  was  a 
big  rabbi  in  the  old  country.  The  way  it  is  with 
me,  Scheikowitz,  just  so  soon  as  I  am  hearing  a 
feller's  grandfather  was  a  big  rabbi  in  the  old  country, 
Scheikowitz,  I  wouldn't  got  nothing  more  to  do  with 
him.  If  he  works  for  you  in  your  place,  understand 
me,  then  he  fools  away  your  time  telling  the  opera- 
tors what  a  big  rabbi  his  grandfather  was;  and  if 
he's  a  customer,  Scheikowitz,  and  you  write  him 
ten  days  after  the  account  is  overdue  he  should  pay 
you  what  he  owes  you,  instead  he  sends  you  a  check, 
understand  me,  he  comes  down  to  the  store  and 
tells  you  what  a  big  rabbi  he's  got  it  for  a  grand- 
father. Gott  sei  Dank  I  ain't  got  no  Rabonim  in 
my  family." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Philip  cried,  "your  father  would 
be  glad  supposing  he  could  sign  his  name  even." 

Polatkin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  would  oser  worry  me  if  my  whole  family 
couldn't  read  or  write.  So  long  as  I  can  sign  my 
name  and  the  money  is  in  the  bank  to  make  the 
check  good  from  five  to  ten  thousand  dollars, 
y'understand,  what  do  I  care  if  my  grandfather 
would  be  deef,  dumb  and  blind,  Scheikowitz? 
Furthermore,  Scheikowitz,  believe  me  I  would  sooner 
got  one  good  live  business  man  for  a  partner, 
gcheikowitz,  than  a  million  dead  rabbis  for  a  grand- 


6  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

father,  and  don't  you  forget  it.  So  if  you  are  going 
to  spend  the  whole  morning  making  a  Geschreierei 
over  that  letter,  Scheikowitz,  we  may  as  well  close 
up  the  store  und  fertig" 

With  this  ultimatum  Marcus  Polatkin  walked 
rapidly  away  toward  the  cutting  room,  while  Philip 
Scheikowitz  sought  the  foreman  of  their  manufac- 
turing department  and  borrowed  a  copy  of  a  morning 
paper.  It  was  printed  in  the  vernacular  of  the 
lower  East  Side,  and  Philip  bore  it  to  his  desk, 
where  for  more  than  half  an  hour  he  alternately 
consulted  the  column  of  steamboat  advertising  and 
made  figures  on  the  back  of  an  envelope.  These 
represented  the  cost  of  a  journey  for  two  persons 
from  Minsk  to  New  York,  based  on  Philip's  hazy 
recollection  of  his  own  emigration,  fifteen  years 
before,  combined  with  his  experience  as  travelling 
salesman  in  the  Southern  States  for  a  popular-price 
line  of  pants. 

At  length  he  concluded  his  calculations  and  with 
a  heavy  sigh  he  put  on  his  hat  just  as  his  partner 
returned  from  the  cutting  room. 

"Nu!"  Polatkin  cried.  "Where  are  you  going 
now?" 

"I  am  going  for  a  half  an  hour  somewheres," 
Philip  replied. 

"What  for?"  Polatkin  demanded. 

"What  for  is  my  business,"  Philip  answered. 

"Your  business?"  Polatkin  exclaimed.     "At  nine 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  7 

o'clock  in  the  morning  one  partner  puts  on  his  hat 
and  starts  to  go  out,  verstehst  du,  and  when  the 
other  partner  asks  him  where  he  is  going  it's  his 
business,  sagt  erl  What  do  you  come  down  here 
at  all  for,  Scheikowitz?" 

"I  am  coming  down  -here  because  I  got  such  a 
partner,  Polatkin,  which  if  I  was  to  miss  one  day 
even  I  wouldn't  know  where  I  stand  at  all,"  Schei- 
kowitz retorted.  "Furthermore,  you  shouldn't 
worry  yourself,  Polatkin;  for  my  own  sake  I  would 
come  back  just  so  soon  as  I  could." 

Despite  the  offensive  repartee  that  accompanied 
Philip's  departure,  however,  he  returned  to  find 
Polatkin  entirely  restored  to  good  humour  by  a 
thousand-dollar  order  that  had  arrived  in  the 
ten-o'clock  mail;  and  as  Philip  himself  felt  the  glow 
of  conscious  virtue  attendant  upon  a  good  deed 
economically  performed,  he  immediately  fell  into 
friendly  conversation  with  his  partner. 

"Well,  Marcus,"  he  said,  "I  sent  'em  the  passage 
tickets,  and  if  you  ain't  agreeable  that  Borrochson 
comes  to  work  here  I  could  easy  find  him  a  job 
somewheres  else." 

"If  we  got  an  opening  here,  Philip,  what  is  it 
skin  off  my  face  if  the  feller  comes  to  work  here," 
Polatkin  answered,  "so  long  as  he  gets  the  same 
pay  like  somebody  else?" 

"What  could  I  do,  Marcus?"  Philip  rejoined,  as 
he  took  off  his  hat  and  coat  preparatory  to  plunging 


8  ELKAN  XUBLINER 

into  the  assortment  of  a  pile  of  samples.  "My 
own  flesh  and  blood  I  must  got  to  look  out  for,  ain't 
it?  And  if  my  sister  Leah,  olav  hasholem,  would 
be  alive  to-day  I  would  of  got  'em  all  over  here 
long  since  ago  already.  Ain't  I  am  right?" 

Polatkin  shrugged.  "In  family  matters  one 
partner  couldn't  advise  the  other  at  all,"  he  said. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Philip  concluded,  "but  when  a 
feller  has  got  such  a  partner  which  he  is  a  smart, 
up-to-date  feller  and  means  good  by  his  partner, 
understand  me,  then  I  got  a  right  to  take  an  advice 
from  him  about  family  matters,  ain't  it?" 

And  with  these  honeyed  words  the  subject  of  the 
Borrochson  family's  assisted  emigration  was  dis- 
missed until  the  arrival  of  another  letter  from 
Minsk  some  four  weeks  later. 

"Well,  Marcus,"  Philip  cried  after  he  had  read 
it,  "he'll  be  here  Saturday." 

"Who'll  be  here  Saturday?"  Polatkin  asked. 

"Borrochson,"  Philip  replied;  "and  the  boy 
comes  with  him." 

Polatkin  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"I'll  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  Philip,"  he  said  — 
"I'm  surprised  to  hear  it." 

"What  d'ye  mean  you're  surprised  to  hear  it?" 
Philip  asked.  "Ain't  I  am  sending  him  the  passage 
tickets?" 

"Sure,  I  know  you  are  sending  him  the  tickets," 
Polatkin  continued,  "but  everybody  says  the  same, 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  9 

Philip,  and  that's  why  I  am  telling  you,  Philip,  I'm 
surprised  to  hear  he  is  coming;  because  from  what 
everybody  is  telling  me  it's  a  miracle  the  feller  ain't 
sold  the  tickets  and  gambled  away  the  money." 

"What  are  you  talking  nonsense,  selling  the 
tickets!"  Philip  cried  indignantly.  "The  feller  is 
a  decent,  respectable  feller  even  if  he  would  be  a 
poor  man." 

"He  ain't  so  poor,"  Polatkin  retorted.  "A  thief 
need  never  got  to  be  poor,  Scheikowitz." 

"A  thief!"  Philip  exclaimed. 

"That's  what  I  said,"  Polatkin  went  on,  "and  a 
smart  thief  too,  Scheikowitz.  Gifkin  says  he  could 
steal  the  buttons  from  a  policeman's  pants  and  pass 
'em  off  for  real  money,  understand  me,  and  they 
couldn't  catch  him  anyhow." 

"Gifkin?"  Philip  replied. 

"Meyer  Gifkin  which  he  is  working  for  us  now 
two  years,  Scheikowitz,  and  a  decent,  respectable 
feller,"  Polatkin  said  relentlessly.  "If  Gifkin  tells 
you  something  you  could  rely  on  it,  Scheikowitz, 
and  he  is  telling  me  he  lives  in  Minsk  one  house  by 
the  other  with  this  feller  Borrochson,  and  such  a 
lowlife  gambler  bum  as  this  here  feller  Borrochson 
is  you  wouldn't  believe  at  all." 

"Meyer  Gifkin  says  that?"  Philip  gasped. 

"So  sure  as  he  is  working  here  as  assistant  cutter," 
Polatkin  continued.  "And  if  you  think  that  this 
here  feller  Borrochson  comes  to  work  in  our  place, 


io  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Scheikowitz,  you've  got  another  think  coming,  and 
that's  all  I  got  to  say." 

But  Philip  had  not  waited  to  hear  the  conclusion 
of  his  partner's  ultimatum,  and  by  the  time  Polatkin 
had  finished  Philip  was  at  the  threshold  of  the 
cutting  room." 

"Gifkin!"  he  bellowed.  "I  want  to  ask  you 
something  a  question." 

The  assistant  cutter  laid  down  his  shears. 

"What  could  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Scheikowitz?"  he 
said  respectfully. 

"You  could  put  on  your  hat  and  coat  and  get 
out  of  here  before  I  kick  you  out,"  Philip  replied 
without  disclosing  the  nature  of  his  abandoned 
question.  "And,  furthermore,  if  my  brother-in-law 
Borrochson  is  such  a  lowlife  bum  which  you  say 
he  is,  when  he  is  coming  here  Saturday  he  would 
pretty  near  kill  you,  because,  Gifkin,  a  lowlife 
gambler  and  a  thief  could  easily  be  a  murderer  too. 
Aber  if  he  ain't  a  such  thief  and  gambler  which  you 
say  he  is,  then  I  would  make  you  arrested." 

"Me  arrested?"  Gifkin  cried.     "What  for?" 

"Because  for  calling  some  one  a  thief  which  he 
ain't  one  you  could  sit  in  prison,"  Scheikowitz  con- 
cluded. "So  you  should  get  right  out  of  here 
before  I  am  sending  for  a  policeman." 

"But,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,"  Gifkin  protested,  "who 
did  I  told  it  your  brother-in-law  is  a  thief  and  a 
gambler?" 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  n 

"You  know  very  well  who  you  told  it,"  Scheiko- 
witz  retorted.  "You  told  it  my  partner,  G  if  kin. 
That's  who  you  told  it." 

"But  I  says  to  him  he  shouldn't  tell  nobody," 
Gifkin  continued.  "Is  it  my  fault  your  partner  is 
such  a  Klatsch?  And,  anyhow,  Mr.  Scheikowitz, 
supposing  I  did  say  your  brother-in-law  is  a  gambler 
and  a  thief,  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about;  and, 
furthermore,  if  I  got  to  work  in  a  place  where  I 
couldn't  open  my  mouth  at  all,  Mr.  Scheikowitz, 
I  don't  want  to  work  there,  and  that's  all  there  is 
to  it." 

He  assumed  his  hat  and  coat  in  so  dignified  a 
manner  that  for  the  moment  Scheikowitz  felt  as 
though  he  were  losing  an  old  and  valued  employee, 
and  this  impression  was  subsequently  heightened  by 
Polatkin's  behaviour  when  he  heard  of  Gifkin's 
departure.  Indeed  a  casual  observer  might  have 
supposed  that  Polatkin's  wife,  mother,  and  ten 
children  had  all  perished  in  a  common  disaster  and 
that  the  messenger  had  been  indiscreet  in  breaking 
the  news,  for  during  a  period  of  almost  half  an  hour 
Polatkin  rocked  and  swayed  in  his  chair  and  beat 
his  forehead  with  his  clenched  fist. 

"You  are  shedding  my  blood,"  he  moaned  to 
Scheikowitz. 

"What  the  devil  you  are  talking  nonsense!" 
Scheikowitz  declared.  "The  way  you  are  acting 
you  would  think  we  are  paying  the  feller  five  thou- 


12  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

sand  dollars  a  year  instead  of  fifteen  dollars  a 
week." 

"It  ain't  what  a  feller  makes  from  you,  Scheiko- 
witz;  it's  what  you  make  from  him  what  counts," 
he  wailed.  "Gifkin  was  really  worth  to  us  a  year 
five  thousand  dollars." 

"Five  thousand  buttons!"  Scheikowitz  cried. 
"You  are  making  a  big  fuss  about  nothing  at  all." 

But  when  the  next  day  Polatkin  and  Scheikowitz 
heard  that  Gifkin  had  found  employment  with  their 
closest  competitors  Philip  began  to  regret  the  haste 
with  which  he  had  discharged  his  assistant  cutter, 
and  he  bore  his  partner's  upbraidings  in  chastened 
silence.  Thus  by  Friday  afternoon  Polatkin  had 
exhausted  his  indignation. 

"Well,  Philip,"  he  said  as  closing-time  approached, 
"it  ain't  no  use  crying  over  sour  milk.  What  time 
does  the  boat  arrive?" 

"To-night,"  Philip  replied,  "and  the  passengers 
comes  off  the  island  to-morrow.  Why  did  you  ask  ? " 

"Because,"  Marcus  said  with  the  suspicion  of 
a  blush,  "Saturday  ain't  such  a  busy  day  and  I 
was  thinking  I  would  go  over  with  you.  Might  I 
could  help  you  out." 

Philip's  trip  with  his  partner  to  Ellis  Island  the 
following  morning  tried  his  temper  to  the  point 
where  he  could  barely  refrain  from  inquiring  if  the 
expected  immigrant  were  his  relation  or  Polatkin's, 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  13 

for  during  the  entire  journey  Marcus  busied  himself 
making  plans  for  the  Borrochsons'  future. 

"The  first  thing  you  got  to  look  out  for  with  a 
greenhorn,  Philip,"  he  said,  "is  that  you  learn 
'em  good  the  English  language.  If  a  feller  couldn't 
talk  he  couldn't  do  nothing,  understand  me,  so  with 
the  young  feller  especially  you  shouldn't  give  him 
no  encouragement  to  keep  on  talking  Manerloschen." 
Philip  nodded  politely. 

"Look  at  me  for  instance,"  Marcus  continued; 
"six  months  after  I  landed,  Philip,  I  am  speaking 
English  already  just  so  good  as  a  doctor  or  a  lawyer. 
And  how  did  I  done  it?  To  night  school  I  am  going 
only  that  they  should  learn  me  to  write,  verstehst 
du,  aber  right  at  the  start  old  man  Feinrubin  takes 
me  in  hand  and  he  talks  to  me  only  in  English. 
And  if  I  am  understanding  him,  schon  gut;  and  if 
I  don't  understand  him  then  he  gives  me  a  potch 
on  the  side  of  the  head,  Philip,  which  the  next  time 
he  says  it  I  could  understand  him  good.  And  that's 
the  way  you  should  do  with  the  young  feller,  Philip. 
I  bet  yer  he  would  a  damsight  sooner  learn  English 
as  get  a  Schlag  every  ten  minutes." 

Again  Philip  nodded,  and  by  the  time  they  had 
arrived  at  the  enclosure  for  the  relations  of  immi- 
grants he  had  become  so  accustomed  to  the  hum  of 
Marcus'  conversation  that  he  refrained  from  uttering 
even  a  perfunctory  "Uh-huh."  They  sat  on  a  hard 
bench  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  wrhile  the  attend- 


i4  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

ants  bawled  the  common  surnames  of  every  country 
from  Ireland  to  Asiatic  Turkey,  and  at  length  the 
name  Borrochson  brought  Philip  to  his  feet.  He 
rushed  to  the  gateway,  followed  by  Marcus,  just 
as  a  stunted  lad  of  fifteen  emerged,  staggering  under 
the  burden  of  a  huge  cloth-covered  bundle. 

"Uncle  Philip,"  the  lad  cried,  dropping  the  bundle. 
Then  clutching  Marcus  round  the  neck  he  show- 
ered kisses]  on  his  cheeks  until  Philip  dragged  him 
away. 

"I  am  your  uncle,"  Philip  said  in  Jiidisch  Deutsch. 
"Where  is  your  father?" 

Without  answering  the  question  Yosel  Borrochson 
took  a  stranglehold  of  Philip  and  subjected  him  to 
a  second  and  more  violent  osculation.  It  was 
some  minutes  before  Philip  could  disengage  himself 
from  his  nephew's  embrace  and  then  he  led  him 
none  too  gently  to  a  seat. 

"Never  mind  the  kissing,"  he  said;  "where's 
your  father?" 

"He  is  not  here,"  Yosel  Borrochson  replied  with 
a  vivid  blush. 

"I  see  he  is  not  here,"  Philip  rejoined.  "Where 
is  he?" 

"He  is  in  Minsk?"  said  young  Borrochson. 

"In  Minsk?"  Philip  and  Marcus  cried  with  one 
voice,  and  then  Marcus  sat  down  on  the  bench  and 
rocked  to  and  fro  in  an  ecstasy  of  mirth. 

"In  Minsk!"  he  gasped  hysterically,  and  slapped 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  15 

his  thighs  by  way  of  giving  expression  to  his  emo- 
tions. "Did  you  ever  hear  the  like?" 

"Polatkin,  do  me  the  favour,"  Philip  begged, 
"and  don't  make  a  damn  fool  of  yourself." 

"What  did  I  told  you?"  Polatkin  retorted,  but 
Philip  turned  to  his  nephew. 

"What  did  your  father  do  with  the  ticket  and  the 
money  I  sent  him?"  he  asked. 

"He  sold  the  ticket  and  he  used  all  the  money 
for  the  wedding,"  the  boy  replied. 

"The  wedding?"  Philip  exclaimed.  "What  wed- 
ding?" 

"The  wedding  with  the  widow,"  said  the  boy. 

"The  widow?"  Philip  and  Marcus  shouted  in 
unison.  "What  widow?" 

"The  landlord's  widow,"  the  boy  answered  shyly. 

And  then  as  there  seemed  nothing  else  to  do  he 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  wept  aloud. 

"Nu,  Philip,"  Marcus  said,  sitting  down  beside 
young  Borrochson,  "could  the  boy  help  it  if  his 
father  is  a  Ganef?" 

Philip  made  no  reply,  and  presently  Marcus 
stooped  and  picked  up  the  bundle. 

"Come,"  he  said  gently,  "let's  go  up  to  the  store." 

The  journey  uptown  was  not  without  its  un- 
pleasant features,  for  the  size  of  the  bundle  not 
only  barred  them  from  both  subway  and  elevated, 
but  provoked  a  Broadway  car  conductor  to  exhibit 
what  Marcus  considered  to  be  so  biased  and  illiberal 


16  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

an  attitude  toward  unrestricted  immigration  that 
he  barely  avoided  a  cerebral  hemorrhage  in  resenting 
it.  They  finally  prevailed  on  the  driver  of  a  belt- 
line  car  to  accept  them  as  passengers,  and  nearly 
half  an  hour  elapsed  before  they  arrived  at  Des- 
brosses  Street;  but  after  a  dozen  conductors  in 
turn  had  declined  to  honour  their  transfer  tickets 
they  made  the  rest  of  their  journey  on  foot. 

Philip  and  young  Borrochson  carried  the  offending 
bundle,  for  Marcus  flatly  declined  to  assist  them. 
Indeed  with  every  block  his  enthusiasm  waned,  so 
that  when  they  at  length  reached  Wooster  Street 
his  feelings  toward  his  partner's  nephew  had  under- 
gone a  complete  change. 

"Don't  fetch  that  thing  in  here,"  he  said  as  Philip 
and  young  Borrochson  entered  the  showroom  with 
the  bundle;  "leave  it  in  the  shop.  You  got  no 
business  to  bring  the  young  feller  up  here  in  the 
first  place." 

"What  do  you  mean  bring  him  up  here?"  Philip 
cried.  "If  you  wouldn't  butt  in  at  all  I  intended  to 
take  him  to  my  sister's  a  cousin  on  Pitt  Street." 

Marcus  threw  his  hat  on  a  sample  table  and  sat 
down  heavily. 

"That's all  the  gratitude  I  am  getting! "he  declared 
with  bitter  emphasis.  "Right  in  the  busy  season 
I  dropped  everything  to  help  you  out,  and  you  turn 
on  me  like  this." 

He  rose  to  his  feet  suddenly,  and  seizing  the  bundle 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  17 

with  both  hands  he  flung  it  violently  through  the 
doorway. 

"Take  him  to  Pitt  Street,"  he  said.  "Take  him 
to  the  devil  for  all  I  care.  I  am  through  with 
him." 

But  Philip  conducted  his  nephew  no  farther  than 
round  the  corner  on  Canal  Street,  and  when  an  hour 
later  Yosel  Borrochson  returned  with  his  uncle 
his  top-boots  had  been  discarded  forever,  while  his 
wrinkled,  semi-military  garb  had  been  exchanged 
for  a  neat  suit  of  Oxford  gray.  Moreover,  both  he 
and  Philip  had  consumed  a  hearty  meal  of  coffee 
and  rolls  and  were  accordingly  prepared  to  take  a 
more  cheerful  outlook  upon  life,  especially  Philip. 

"  Bleib  du  hier"  he  said  as  he  led  young  Borrochson 
to  a  chair  in  the  cutting  room.  "Ich  Komm  bald 
zuriick." 

Then  mindful  of  his  partner's  advice  he  broke 
into  English.  "Shtay  here,"  he  repeated  in  loud, 
staccato  accents.  "I  would  be  right  back.  Ver- 
stehstdu?" 

"Yess-ss,"  Yosel  replied,  uttering  his  first  word 
of  English. 

With  a  delighted  grin  Philip  walked  to  the  show- 
room, where  Polatkin  sat  wiping  away  the  crumbs 
of  a  belated  luncheon  of  two  dozen  zwieback  and 
a  can  of  coffee. 

"Nu,"  he  said  conciliatingly,  "what  is  it  now?" 

"Marcus,"  Philip  began  with  a  nod  of  his  head 


i8  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

in  the  direction  of  the  cutting  room,  "I  want  to 
show  you  something  a  picture." 

"A  picture!"  Polatkin  repeated  as  he  rose  to  his 
feet.  "What  do  you  mean  a  picture?" 

"Come,"  Philip  said;  "I'll  show  you." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  cutting  room,  where  Yosel 
sat  awaiting  his  uncle's  return. 

"What  do  you  think  of  him  now?"  Philip  de- 
manded. "Ain't  he  a  good-looking  young  feller?" 

Marcus  shrugged  in  a  non-committal  manner. 

"Look  what  a  bright  eye  he  got  it,"  Philip  insisted. 
"You  could  tell  by  looking  at  him  only  that  he  comes 
from  a  good  family." 

"He  looks  a  boy  like  any  other  boy,"  said 
Marcus. 

"But  even  if  no  one  would  told  you,  Marcus, 
you  could  see  from  his  forehead  yet  —  and  the  big 
head  he's  got  it  —  you  could  see  that  somewheres 
is  Rabonim  in  the  family." 

"Yow!"  Marcus  exclaimed.  "You  could  just  so 
much  see  from  his  head  that  his  grandfather  is  a 
rabbi  as  you  could  see  from  his  hands  that  his 
father  is  a  crook."  He  turned  impatiently  away. 
"So  instead  you  should  be  talking  a  lot  of  nonsense, 
Philip,  you  should  set  the  boy  to  work  sweeping 
the  floor,"  he  continued.  "Also  for  a  beginning 
we  would  start  him  in  at  three  dollars  a  week,  and 
if  the  boy  gets  worth  it  pretty  soon  we  could  give 
him  four." 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  19 

In  teaching  his  nephew  the  English  language 
Philip  Scheikowitz  adopted  no  particular  system  of 
pedagogy,  but  he  combined  the  methods  of  Ollen- 
dorf,  Chardenal,  Ahn  and  Polatkin  so  successfully 
that  in  a  few  days  Joseph  possessed  a  fairly  extensive 
vocabulary.  To  be  sure,  every  other  word  was 
acquired  at  the  cost  of  a  clump  over  the  side  of  the 
head,  but  beyond  a  slight  ringing  of  the  left  ear 
that  persisted  for  nearly  six  months  the  Polatkin 
method  of  instruction  vindicated  itself,  and  by  the 
end  of  the  year  Joseph's  speech  differed  in  no  way 
from  that  of  his  employers. 

"Ain't  it  something  which  you  really  could  say 
is  wonderful  the  way  that  boy  gets  along?"  Philip 
declared  to  his  partner,  as  the  first  anniversary 
of  Joseph's  landing  approached.  "Honestly,  Mar- 
cus, that  boy  talks  English  like  he  would  be  born 
here  already." 

fc*Sure,  I  know,"  Marcus  agreed.  "He's  got 
altogether  too  much  to  say  for  himself.  Only 
this  morning  he  tells  me  he  wants  a  raise  to  six 
dollars  a  week." 

"Could  you  blame  him?"  Philip  asked  mildly. 
"He's  doing  good  work  here,  Marcus." 

"Yow!  he's  doing  good  work!"  Marcus  exclaimed. 
"He's  fresh  like  anything,  Scheikowitz.  If  you 
give  him  the  least  little  encouragement,  Scheiko- 
witz, he  would  stand  there  and  talk  to  you  all  day 
yet." 


20  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Not  to  me  he  don't,"  Philip  retorted.  "Lots 
of  times  I  am  asking  him  questions  about  the  folks 
in  the  old  country  and  always  he  tells  me:  'With 
greenhorns  like  them  I  don't  bother  myself  at  all.' 
Calls  his  father  a  greenhorn  yet!" 

Marcus  flapped  his  right  hand  in  a  gesture  of 
impatience. 

"He  could  call  his  father  a  whole  lot  worse,"  he 
said.  "Why,  that  Ganef  ain't  even  wrote  you  at 
all  since  the  boy  comes  over  here.  Not  only  he's 
a  crook,  Scheikowitz,  but  he's  got  a  heart  like  a 
brick." 

Philip  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"What  difference  does  it  make  if  he  is  a  crook?" 
he  rejoined.  "The  boy's  all  right  anyway.  Yes, 
Marcus,  the  boy  is  something  which  you  could 
really  say  is  a  jewel." 

"Geh  weg!"  Marcus  cried  disgustedly —  "a  jewel!" 

"That's  what  I  said,"  Philip  continued  — "a 
jewel.  Tell  me,  Marcus,  how  many  boys  would 
you  find  it  which  they  are  getting  from  three  to  five 
dollars  a  week  and  in  one  year  saves  up  a  hundred 
dollars,  y'understand,  and  comes  to  me  only  this 
morning  and  says  to  me  I  should  take  the  money 
for  what  it  costs  to  keep  him  while  he  is  learning 
the  language,  and  for  buying  him  his  clothes  when 
he  first  comes  here.  Supposing  his  father  is  a  crook, 
Marcus,  am  I  right  or  wrong?" 

"Talk  is  cheap,  Scheikowitz,"  Marcus  retorted. 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  21 

"He  only  says  he  would  pay  you  the  money,  Schei- 
kowitz,  ain't  it?" 

Philip  dug  down  into  his  pocket  and  produced 
a  roll  of  ragged  one  and  two  dollar  bills,  which  he 
flung  angrily  on  to  a  sample  table. 

"  Count  'em,"  he  said. 

Marcus  shrugged  again. 

"What  is  it  my  business?"  he  said.  "And 
anyhow,  Scheikowitz,  I  must  say  I'm  surprised  at 
you.  A  poor  boy  saves  up  a  hundred  dollars  out 
of  the  little  we  are  paying  him  here,  and  actually 
you  are  taking  the  money  from  him.  Couldn't 
you  afford  it  to  spend  on  the  boy  a  hundred  dollars?" 

"Sure  I  could,"  Philip  replied  as  he  pocketed  the 
bills.  "Sure  I  could  and  I'm  going  to  too.  I'm 
going  to  take  this  here  money  and  put  it  in  the 
bank  for  the  boy,  with  a  hundred  dollars  to  boot, 
Polatkin,  and  when  the  boy  gets  to  be  twenty-one 
he  would  anyhow  got  in  savings  bank  a  couple 
hundred  dollars." 

Polatkin  nodded  shamefacedly. 

"Furthermore,  Polatkin,"  Philip  continued,  "if 
you  got  such  a  regard  for  the  boy  which  you  say 
you  got  it,  understand  me,  I  would  like  to  make 
you  a  proposition.  Ever  since  Gifkin  leaves  us, 
y'understand,  we  got  in  our  cutting  room  one 
Schlemiel  after  another.  Ain't  it?  Only  yesterday 
we  got  to  fire  that  young  feller  we  took  on  last  week, 
understand  me,  and  if  we  get  somebody  else  in  his 


22  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

place  today,  Polatkin,  the  chances  is  we  would  get 
rid  of  him  to-morrow,  and  so  it  goes." 

Again  Polatkin  nodded. 

"So,  therefore,  what  is  the  use  talking,  Polatkin?" 
Philip  concluded.  "Let  us  take  Joe  Borrochson  and 
learn  him  he  should  be  a  cutter,  and  in  six  months' 
time,  Polatkin,  I  bet  yer  he  would  be  just  so  good 
a  cutter  as  anybody." 

At  this  juncture  Polatkin  raised  his  hand  with  the 
palm  outward. 

"Stop  right  there,  Scheikowitz,"  he  said.  "You 
are  making  a  fool  of  yourself,  Scheikowitz,  because, 
Scheikowitz,  admitting  for  the  sake  of  no  arguments 
about  it  that  the  boy  is  a  good  boy,  understand  me, 
after  all  he's  only  a  boy,  ain't  it,  and  if  you  are 
coming  to  make  a  sixteen-year-old  boy  an  assistant 
cutter,  y'understand,  the  least  that  we  could  expect 
is  that  our  customers  fires  half  our  goods  back  at  us. " 

"But "  Scheikowitz  began. 

"But,  nothing,  Scheikowitz,"  Polatkin  interrupted. 
"This  morning  I  seen  it  Meyer  Gifkin  on  Canal 
Street  and  he  ain't  working  for  them  suckers  no 
more;  and  I  says  to  him  is  he  willing  to  come  back 
here  at  the  same  wages,  and  he  says  yes,  providing 
you  would  see  that  this  here  feller  Borrochson 
wouldn't  pretty  near  kill  him." 

"What  do  you  mean  pretty  near  kill  him?"  Schei- 
kowitz cried.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  he  is  afraid 
of  a  boy  like  Joe  Borrochson?" 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  23 

"Not  Joe  Borrochson,"  Polatkin  replied.  "He 
is  all  the  time  thinking  that  your  brother-in-law 
Borrochson  comes  over  here  with  his  boy  and  is 
working  in  our  place  yet,  and  when  I  told  him  that 
that  crook  didn't  come  over  at  all  Meyer  says  that's 
the  first  he  hears  about  it  or  he  would  have  asked 
for  his  job  back  long  since  already.  So  he  says  he 
would  come  in  here  to  see  us  this  afternoon." 

"But "  Scheikowitz  began  again. 

"Furthermore,"  Polatkin  continued  hastily,  "if 
I  would  got  a  nephew  in  my  place,  Scheikowitz,  I 
would  a  damsight  sooner  he  stays  working  on  the 
stock  till  he  knows  enough  to  sell  goods  on  the  road 
as  that  he  learns  to  be  a  cutter.  Ain't  it?" 

Scheikowitz  sighed  heavily  by  way  of  surrender. 

"All  right,  Polatkin,"  he  said;  "if  you're  so  dead 
set  on  taking  this  here  feller  Gifkin  back  go  ahead. 
But  one  thing  I  must  got  to  tell  you:  If  you  are 
taking  a  feller  back  which  you  fired  once,  understand 
me,  he  acts  so  independent  you  couldn't  do  nothing 
with  him  at  all." 

"Leave  that  to  me,"  Polatkin  said,  as  he  started 
for  the  cutting  room,  and  when  Scheikowitz  followed 
him  he  found  that  Gifkin  had  already  arrived. 

"Wie  gehtSy  Mister  Scheikowitz?"  Gifkin  cried, 
and  Philip  received  the  salutation  with  a  distant  nod. 

"I  hope  you  don't  hold  no  hard  feelings  for  me," 
Gifkin  began. 

"Me  hold  hard  feelings  for  you?"   Scheikowitz 


24  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

exclaimed.  "I  guess  you  forget  yourself,  Gifkin. 
A  boss  don't  hold  no  hard  feelings  for  a  feller  which 
is  working  in  the  place,  Gifkin;  otherwise  the  feller 
gets  fired  and  stays  fired,  Gifkin." 

At  this  juncture  Polatkin  in  the  role  of  peacemaker 
created  a  diversion. 

"Joe,"  he  called  to  young  Borrochson,  who  was 
passing  the  cutting-room  door,  "come  in  here  a 


minute." 


He  turned  to  Gifkin  as  Joe  entered. 

"I  guess  you  seen  this  young  feller  before?"  he 
said. 

Gifkin  looked  hard  at  Joe  for  a  minute. 

"I  think  I  seen  him  before  somewheres,"  he 
replied. 

"Sure  you  seen  him  before,"  Polatkin  rejoined. 
"His  name  is  Borrochson." 

"Borrochson!"  Gifkin  cried,  and  Joe,  whose  colour 
had  heightened  at  the  close  scrutiny  to  which  he 
had  been  subjected,  began  to  grow  pale. 

"Sure,  Yosel  Borrochson,  the  son  of  your  old 
neighbour,"  Polatkin  explained,  but  Gifkin  shook  his 
head  slowly. 

"That  ain't  Yosel  Borrochson,"  he  declared,  and 
then  it  was  that  Polatkin  and  Scheikowitz  first 
noticed  Joe's  embarrassment.  Indeed  even  as  they 
gazed  at  him  his  features  worked  convulsively  once 
or  twice  and  he  dropped  unconscious  to  the  floor. 

In  the  scene  of  excitement  that  ensued  Gifkin's 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  25 

avowed  discovery  was  temporarily  forgotten,  but 
when  Joe  was  again  restored  to  consciousness 
Polatkin  drew  Gifkin  aside  and  requested  an  expla- 
nation. 

"What  do  you  mean  the  boy  ain't  Yosel  Borroch- 
son?"  he  demanded. 

"I  mean  the  boy  ain't  Yosel  Borrochson,"  Gifkin 
replied  deliberately.  "I  know  this  here  boy,  Mr. 
Polatkin,  and,  furthermore,  Borrochson's  boy  is  got 
one  bum  eye,  which  he  gets  hit  with  a  stone  in 
it  when  he  was  only  four  years  old  already.  Don't 
I  know  it,  Mr.  Polatkin,  when  with  my  own  eyes 
I  seen  this  here  boy  throw  the  stone  yet?" 

"Well,  then,  who  is  this  boy?"  Marcus  Polatkin 
insisted. 

"He's  a  boy  by  the  name  Lubliner,"  Gifkin  replied, 
"which  his  father  was  Pincus  Lubliner,  also  a  crook, 
Mr.  Polatkin,  which  he  would  steal  anything  from 
a  toothpick  to  an  oitermobile,  understand  me." 

"Pincus  Lubliner!"  Polatkin  repeated  hoarsely. 

"That's  who  I  said,"  Gifkin  continued,  rushing 
headlong  to  his  destruction.  "Pincus  Lubliner, 
which  honestly,  Mr.  Polatkin,  there's  nothing  that 
feller  wouldn't  do  —  a  regular  Rosher  if  ever  there 


was  one." 


For  one  brief  moment  Polatkin's  eyes  flashed 
angrily,  and  then  with  a  resounding  smack  his  open 
hand  struck  Gifkin's  cheek. 

"Liar!"  he  shouted.     "What  do  you  mean  by  it?" 


26  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Scheikowitz,  who  had  been  tenderly  bathing  Joe 
Borrochson's  head  with  water,  rushed  forward  at 
the  sound  of  the  blow. 

"Marcus,"  he  cried,  "for  Heaven's  sake,  what 
are  you  doing?  You  shouldn't  kill  the  feller  just 
because  he  makes  a  mistake  and  thinks  the  boy 
ain't  Joe  Borrochson." 

"He  makes  too  many  mistakes,"  Polatkin  roared. 
"Calls  Pincus  Lubliner  a  crook  and  a  murderer 
yet,  which  his  mother  was  my  own  father's  a  sister. 
Did  you  ever  hear  the  like?" 

He  made  a  threatening  gesture  toward  Gifkin, 
who  cowered  in  a  chair. 

"Say,  lookyhere,  Marcus,"  Scheikowitz  asked, 
"what  has  Pincus  Lubliner  got  to  do  with  this?" 

"He's  got  a  whole  lot  to  do  with  it,"  Marcus 
replied,  and  then  his  eyes  rested  on  Joe  Borrochson, 
who  had  again  lapsed  into  unconsciousness. 

"Oo-ee!"  Marcus  cried.     "The  poor  boy  is  dead." 

He  swept  Philip  aside  and  ran  to  the  water-cooler, 
whence  he  returned  with  the  drip-bucket  brimming 
over.  This  he  emptied  on  Joe  Borrochson's  recum- 
bent form,  and  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  recovery 
was  permanent.  In  the  meantime  Philip  had  inter- 
viewed Meyer  Gifkin  to  such  good  purpose  that  when 
he  entered  the  firm's  office  with  Meyer  Gifkin  at 
his  heels  he  was  fairly  spluttering  with  rage. 

"Thief!"  he  yelled.  "Out  of  here  before  I  make 
you  arrested." 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  27 

"Who  the  devil  you  think  you  are  talking  to?" 
Marcus  demanded. 

"I  am  talking  to  Joseph  Borrochson,"  Scheiko- 
witz  replied.  "That's  who  Pm  talking  to." 

"Well,  there  ain't  no  such  person  here,"  Polatkin 
retorted.  "There's  here  only  a  young  fellow  by 
the  name  Elkan  Lubliner,  which  he  is  my  own 
father's  sister  a  grandson,  and  he  ain't  no  more 
a  thief  as  you  are." 

"Ain't  he?"  Philip  retorted.  "Well,  all  I  can  say 
is  he  is  a  thief  and  his  whole  family  is  thieves,  the 
one  worser  as  the  other." 

Marcus  glowered  at  his  partner. 

"You  should  be  careful  what  you  are  speaking 
about,"  he  said.  "Maybe  you  ain't  aware  that 
this  here  boy's  grandfather  on  his  father's  side  was 
Reb  Mosha,  the  big  Lubliner  Rav,  a  Chosid  and  a 
Tzadek  if  ever  there  was  one." 

"What  difference  does  that  make?"  Philip  de- 
,manded.  "He  is  stealing  my  brother-in-law's  pas- 
sage ticket  anyhow." 

"I  didn't  steal  it,"  the  former  Joseph  Borrochson 
cried.  "My  father  paid  him  good  money  for  it, 
because  Borrochson  says  he  wanted  it  to  marry 
the  widow  with;  and  you  also  I  am  paying  a  hundred 
dollars." 

"Yow!  Your  father  paid  him  good  money  for 
it!"  Philip  jerred.  "A  Ganef  like  your  father  is 
stealing  the  money,  too,  I  bet  yer." 


28  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Oser  a  Stuck,"  Polatkin  declared.  "I  am  send- 
ing him  the  money  myself  to  help  bury  his  aunt, 
Mrs.  Lebowitz." 

" You  sent  him  the  money?"  Philip  cried.  "And 
your  own  partner  you  didn't  tell  nothing  about  it 
at  all!" 

"What  is  it  your  business  supposing  I  am  sending 
money  to  the  old  country?"  Marcus  retorted.  "Do 
you  ask  me  an  advice  when  you  are  sending  away 
money  to  the  old  country?" 

"But  the  feller  didn't  bury  his  aunt  at  all," 
Philip  said. 

"Yes,  he  did  too,"  the  former  Joseph  Borrochson 
protested.  "Instead  of  a  hundred  dollars  the 
funeral  only  costs  fifty.  Anybody  could  make  an 
overestimate.  Ain't  it?" 

Marcus  nodded. 

"The  boy  is  right,  Philip,"  he  said,  "and  anyhow 
what  does  this  loafer  come  butting  in  here  for?" 

As  he  spoke  he  indicated  Meyer  Gifkin  with  a 
jerk  of  the  chin. 

"He  ain't  butting  in  here,"  Philip  declared; 
"he  comes  in  here  because  I  told  him  to.  I  want 
you  should  make  an  end  of  this  nonsense,  Polatkin, 
and  hire  a  decent  assistant  cutter.  Gifkin  is  willing 
to  come  back  for  twenty  dollars  a  week." 

"He  is,  is  he?"  Marcus  cried.  "Well,  if  he  was 
willing  to  come  back  for  twenty  dollars  a  week 
why  didn't  he  come  back  before?  Now  it's  too 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  29 

late;  I  got  other  plans.  Besides,  twenty  dollars  is 
too  much." 

"You  know  very  well  why  I  ain't  come  back 
before,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  Gifkin  protested.  "I  was 
afraid  for  my  life  from  that  murderer  Borrochson." 

Philip  scowled  suddenly. 

"My  partner  is  right,  Gifkin,"  he  said.  "Twenty 
dollars  is  too  much." 

"No,  it  ain't,"  Gifkin  declared.  "If  I  would  be 
still  working  for  you,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  I  would  be 
getting  more  as  twenty  dollars  by  now.  And  was 
it  my  fault  you  are  firing  me?  By  rights  I  should 
have  sued  you  in  the  courts  yet." 

"What  d'ye  mean  sue  us  in  the  courts?"  Philip 
exclaimed.  He  was  growing  increasingly  angry,  but 
Gifkin  heeded  no  warning. 

"Because  you  are  firing  me  just  for  saying  a  crook 
is  a  crook,"  Gifkin  replied,  "and  here  lately  you 
found  out  for  yourself  this  here  Borrochson  is  nothing 
but  a  Schwindler  —  a  Ganef." 

"What  are  you  talking  about  —  a  Schwindler?" 
Philip  cried,  now  thoroughly  aroused.  "Ain't  you 
heard  the  boy  says  Borrochson  is  marrying  the  land- 
lord's widow?  Could  a  man  get  married  on  wind, 
Gifkin?" 

"Yow!  he  married  the  landlord's  widow!"  Gifkin 
said.  "I  bet  yer  that  crook  gambles  away  the 
money;  and,  anyhow,  could  you  believe  anything 
this  here  boy  tells  you,  Mr.  Scheikowitz?" 


30  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

The  question  fell  on  deaf  ears,  however,  for  at  the 
repetition  of  the  word  crook  Philip  flung  open  the 
office  door. 

"Out  of  here,"  he  roared,  "before  I  kick  you  out." 

Simultaneously  Marcus  grabbed  the  luckless  Gif- 
kin  by  the  collar,  and  just  what  occurred  between 
the  office  and  the  stairs  could  be  deduced  from  the 
manner  in  which  Marcus  limped  back  to  the  office. 

"Gotf  sei  Dank  we  are  rid  of  the  fellow,"  he  said 
as  he  came  in. 

Although  Philip  Scheikowitz  arrived  at  his  place 
of  business  at  half-past  seven  the  following  morning 
he  found  that  Marcus  and  Elkan  Lubliner  had  pre- 
ceded him,  for  when  he  entered  the  showroom 
Marcus  approached  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  face 
and  pointed  to  the  cutting  room,  where  stood 
Elkan  Lubliner.  In  the  boy's  right  hand  was 
clutched  a  pair  of  cutter's  shears,  and  guided  by 
chalked  lines  he  was  laboriously  slicing  up  a  roll 
of  sample  paper. 

"Ain't  he  a  picture?"  Marcus  exclaimed. 

"A  picture!"  Philip  repeated.  "What  d'ye  mean 
a  picture?" 

"Why,  the  way  he  stands  there  with  them  shears, 
Philip,"  Marcus  replied.  "He's  really  what  you 
could  call  a  born  cutter  if  ever  there  was  one." 

"A  cutter!"  Philip  cried. 

"Sure,"  Marcus  went  on.     "It's  never  too  soon 


NOBLESSE  OBLIGE  31 

for  a  young  feller  to  learn  all  sides  of  his  trade, 
Philip.  He's  been  long  enough  on  the  stock.  Now 
he  should  learn  to  be  a  cutter,  and  I  bet  yer  in 
six  months'  time  yet  he  would  be  just  so  good  a 
cutter  as  anybody." 

Philip  was  too  dazed  to  make  any  comment  before 
Marcus  obtained  a  fresh  start. 

"A  smart  boy  like  him,  Philip,  learns  awful  quick," 
he  said.  "Ain't  it  funny  how  blood  shows  up? 
Now  you  take  a  boy  like  him  which  he  comes  from 
decent,  respectable  family,  Philip,  and  he's  got  real 
gumption.  I  think  I  told  you  his  grandfather 
on  his  father's  side  was  a  big  rabbi,  the  Lubliner 
Rav." 

Philip  nodded. 

"And  even  if  I  didn't  told  you,"  Marcus  went 
on,  "you  could  tell  it  from  his  face." 

Again  Philip  nodded. 

"And  another  thing  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about," 
Marcus  said,  hastening  after  him:  "the  hundred 
dollars  the  boy  gives  you  you  should  keep,  Philip. 
And  if  you  are  spending  more  than  that  on  the  boy 
I  would  make  it  good." 

Philip  dug  down  absently  into  his  trousers  pocket 
and  brought  forth  the  roll  of  dirty  bills. 

"Take  it,"  he  said,  throwing  it  toward  his  partner. 
"I  don't  want  it." 

"What  d'ye  mean  you  don't  want  it?"  Marcus 
cried. 


32  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"I  mean  I  ain't  got  no  hard  feelings  against  the 
boy,"  Philip  replied.  "I  am  thinking  it  over  all 
night,  and  I  come  to  the  conclusion  so  long  as  I 
started  in  being  the  boy's  uncle  I  would  continue 
that  way.  So  you  should  put  the  money  in  the 
savings  bank  like  I  says  yesterday." 

"But "  Marcus  protested. 

"But  nothing,"  Philip  interrupted.  "Do  what 
I  am  telling  you." 

Marcus  blinked  hard  and  cleared  his  throat  with 
a  great,  rasping  noise. 

"After  all,"  he  said  huskily,  "it  don't  make  no 
difference  how  many  crooks  oder  Ganevim  is  in  a 
feller's  family,  Philip,  so  long  as  he's  got  a  good, 
straight  business  man  for  a  partner." 


CHAPTER  TWO 
APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT 

HOW  ELKAN  LUBLINER  GRADUATED  INTO 
SALESMANSHIP 

WHEN  I  hire  a  salesman,  Mr.    Klugfels," 
said   Marcus  Polatkin,  senior  partner  of 
Polatkin  &  Scheikowitz,  "I  hire  him  be- 
cause he's  a  salesman,  not  because  he's  a  nephew." 
"But  it  don't  do  any  harm  for  a  salesman  to  have 
an  uncle  whose  concern  would  buy  in  one  season 
from  you  already  ten  thousand  dollars  goods,  Mr. 
Polatkin,"  Klugfels  insisted.     "Furthermore,  Harry 
is  a  bright,  smart  boy;  and  you  can  take  it  from  me, 
Mr.  Polatkin,  not  alone  he  would  get  my  trade, 
but  us  buyers  is  got  a  whole  lot  of  influence  one  with 
the  other,  understand  me;  so,  if  there's  any  other 
concern  you  haven't  on  your  books  at  present,  you 
could  rely  on  me  I  should  do  my  best  for  Harry 
and  you." 

Thus  spoke  Mr.  Felix  Klugfels,  buyer  for  Appen- 
weier  &  Murray's  Thirty-second  Street  store,  on 
the  first  Monday  of  January;  and  in  consequence 

on  the  second  Monday  of   January  Harry  Flaxberg 

• 

33 


34  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

came  to  work  as  city  salesman  for  Polatkin  &  Schei- 
kowitz.  He  also  maintained  the  role  of  party  of 
the  second  part  in  a  contract  drawn  by  Henry  D. 
Feldman,  whose  skill  in  such  matters  is  too  well 
known  for  comment  here.  Sufficient  to  say  it 
fixed  Harry  Flaxberg's  compensation  at  thirty 
dollars  a  week  and  moderate  commissions.  At 
Polatkin's  request,  however,  the  document  was  so 
worded  that  it  excluded  Flaxberg  from  selling  any 
of  the  concerns  already  on  Polatkin  &  Scheikowitz's 
books;  for  not  only  did  he  doubt  Flaxberg's  ability 
as  a  salesman,  but  he  was  quite  conscious  of  the 
circumstance  that,  save  for  the  acquisition  of  Appen- 
weier  &  Murray's  account,  there  was  no  need  of 
their  hiring  a  city  salesman  at  all,  since  the  scope 
of  their  business  operations  required  only  one 
salesman  —  to  wit,  as  the  lawyers  say,  Marcus 
Polatkin  himself.  On  the  other  hand,  Klugfels  had 
insisted  upon  the  safeguarding  of  his  nephew's 
interests,  so  that  the  latter  was  reasonably  certain 
of  a  year's  steady  employment.  Hence,  when,  on 
the  first  Monday  of  February,  Appenweier  &  Murray 
dispensed  with  the  services  of  Mr.  Klugfels  before 
he  had  had  the  opportunity  of  bestowing  even  one 
order  on  his  nephew  as  a  mark  of  his  favour,  the 
business  premises  of  Polatkin  &  Scheikowitz  became 
forthwith  a  house  of  mourning.  From  the  stricken 
principals  down  to  and  including  the  shipping  clerk 
nothing  else  was  spoken  of  or  thought  about  for  a 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  35 

period  of  more  than  two  weeks.  Neither  was  it 
a  source  of  much  consolation  to  Marcus  Polatkin 
when  he  heard  that  Klugfels  had  been  supplanted 
by  Max  Lapin,  a  third  cousin  of  Leon  Sammet 
of  the  firm  of  Sammet  Brothers. 

"Ain't  it  terrible  the  way  people  is  related  nowa- 
days?" he  said  to  Scheikowitz,  who  had  just  read 
aloud  the  news  of  Max  Lapin's  hiring  in  the  columns 
of  the  Daily  Cloak  and  Suit  Record. 

"Honestly,  Scheikowitz,  if  a  feller  ain't  got  a 
lot  of  retailers  oder  buyers  for  distance  relations, 
understand  me,  he  might  just  so  well  go  out  of 
business  and  be  done  with  it!" 

Scheikowitz  threw  down  the  paper  impatiently. 

"That's  where  you  are  making  a  big  mistake, 
Polatkin,"  he  said.  "A  feller  which  he  expects 
to  do  business  with  relations  is  just  so  good  as  looking 
for  trouble.  You  could  never  depend  on  relations 
that  they  are  going  to  keep  on  buying  goods  from 
you,  Polatkin.  The  least  little  thing  happens  be- 
tween relations,  understand  me,  and  they  are 
getting  right  away  enemies  for  life;  while,  if  it  was 
just  between  friends,  Polatkin,  one  friend  makes 
for  the  other  a  blue  eye,  understand  me,  and  in  two 
weeks'  time  they  are  just  so  good  friends  as  ever. 
So,  even  if  Appenweier  &  Murray  wouldn't  fire 
him,  y'understand,  Klugfels  would  have  dumped 
this  young  feller  on  us  anyway." 

As  he  spoke  he  looked  through  the  office  door 


36  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

toward  the  showroom,  where  Harry  Flaxberg  sat 
with  his  feet  cocked  up  on  a  sample  table  midway 
in  the  perusal  of  the  sporting  page. 

" Flaxberg,"  Scheikowitz  cried,  "what  are  we 
showing  here  anyway  —  garments  oder  shoes  ?  You 
are  ruining  our  sample  tables  the  way  you  are 
acting!" 

Flaxberg  replaced  his  feet  on  the  floor  and  put 
down  his  paper. 

"It's  time  some  one  ruined  them  tables  on  you, 
Mr.  Scheikowitz,"  he  said.  "With  the  junk  fixtures 
you  got  it  here  Pm  ashamed  to  bring  a  customer 
into  the  place  at  all." 

"That's  all  right,"  Scheikowitz  retorted;  "for 
all  the  customers  you  are  bringing  in  here,  Flaxberg, 
we  needn't  got  no  fixtures  at  all.  Come  inside 
the  office  —  my  partner  wants  to  speak  to  you  a 
few  words  something." 

Flaxberg  rose  leisurely  to  his  feet  and,  carefully 
shaking  each  leg  in  turn  to  restore  the  unwrinkled 
perfection  of  his  trousers,  walked  toward  the  office. 

"Tell  me,  Flaxberg,"  Polatkin  cried  as  he  entered, 
"what  are  you  going  to  do  about  this  here  account 
of  Appenweier  &  Murray's?" 

"What  am  I  going  to  do  about  it?"  Flaxberg 
repeated.  "Why,  what  could  I  do  about  it?  Every 
salesman  is  liable  to  lose  one  account,  Mr.  Polatkin." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Polatkin  answered;  "but  most 
every  other  salesman  is  got  some  other  accounts 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  37 

to  fall  back  on.  Whereas  if  a  salesman  is  just  got 
one  account,  Flaxberg,  and  he  loses  it,  understand 
me,  then  he  ain't  a  salesman  no  longer,  Flaxberg. 
Right  away  he  becomes  only  a  loafer,  Flaxberg, 
and  the  best  thing  he  could  do,  understand  me, 
is  to  go  and  find  a  job  somewheres  else." 

"Not  when  he's  got  a  contract,  Mr.  Polatkin," 
Flaxberg  retorted  promptly.  "And  specially  a 
contract  which  the  boss  fixes  up  himself  —  ain't 
it?" 

Scheikowitz  nodded  and  scowled  savagely  at  his 
partner. 

"Listen  here  to  me,  Flaxberg,"  Polatkin  cried. 
"Do  you  mean  to  told  me  that,  even  if  a  salesman 
would  got  ever  so  much  a  crazy  contract,  understand 
me,  it  allows  the  salesman  he  should  sit  all  the  time 
doing  nothing  in  the  showroom  without  we  got 
a  right  to  fire  him?" 

"Well,"  Flaxberg  replied  calmly,  "it  gives  him 
the  privilege  to  go  out  to  lunch  once  in  a  while." 

He  pulled  down  his  waistcoat  with  exaggerated 
care  and  turned  on  his  heel. 

"So  I  would  be  back  in  an  hour,"  he  concluded; 
"and  if  any  customers  come  in  and  ask  for  me  tell 
'em  to  take  a  seat  till  I  am  coming  back." 

The  two  partners  watched  him  until  he  put  on 
his  hat  and  coat  in  the  rear  of  the  showroom  and 
then  Polatkin  rose  to  his  feet." 

"Flaxberg,"  he  cried,  "wait  a  minute!" 


38  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Flaxberg  returned  to  the  office  and  nonchalantly 
lit  a  cigarette. 

"Listen  here  to  me,  Flaxberg,"  Polatkin  began. 
"Take  from  us  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  and  quit!" 

Flaxberg  continued  the  operation  of  lighting  his 
cigarette  and  blew  a  great  cloud  of  smoke  before 
replying. 

"What  for  a  piker  do  you  think  I  am  anyhow?" 
he  asked. 

"What  d'ye  mean  —  piker?"  Polatkin  said.  "A 
hundred  and  fifty  ain't  to  be  sneezed  at,  Flaxberg." 

"Ain't  it?"  Flaxberg  retorted.  "Well,  with  me, 
I  got  a  more  delicate  nose  as  most  people,  Mr. 
Polatkin.  I  sneeze  at  everything  under  five  hundred 
dollars  —  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

Once  more  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  out 
of  the  office;  but  this  time  his  progress  toward  the 
stairs  was  more  deliberate,  for,  despite  his  defiant 
attitude,  Flaxberg's  finances  were  at  low  ebb  owing 
to  a  marked  reversal  of  form  exhibited  the  previous 
day  in  the  third  race  at  New  Orleans.  Moreover, 
he  felt  confident  that  a  judicious  investment  of  a 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  would  net  him  that  very 
afternoon  at  least  five  hundred  dollars,  if  any  reliance 
were  to  be  placed  on  the  selection  of  Merlando,  the 
eminent  sporting  writer  of  the  Morning  Wireless. 

Consequently  he  afforded  every  opportunity  for 
Marcus  to  call  him  back,  and  he  even  paused  at 
the  factory  door  and  applied  a  lighted  match  to  his 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  39 

already  burning  cigarette.  The  expected  summons 
failed,  however,  and  instead  he  was  nearly  precipi- 
tated to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  by  no  less  a  person 
than  Elkan  Lubliner. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Flaxberg,"  Elkan  said.  "I 
ain't  seen  you  at  all." 

Flaxberg  turned  suddenly,  but  at  the  sight  of 
Elkan  his  anger  evaporated  as  he  recalled  a  piece 
of  gossip  retailed  by  Sam  Markulies,  the  shipping 
clerk,  to  the  effect  that,  despite  his  eighteen  years, 
Elkan  had  at  least  two  savings-bank  accounts  and 
kept  in  his  pocket  a  bundle  of  bills  as  large  as  a  roll 
of  piece  goods. 

"That's  all  right,"  Flaxberg  cried  with  a  forced 
grin.  "I  ain't  surprised  you  are  pretty  near  blinded 
when  you  are  coming  into  the  daylight  out  of  the 
cutting  room.  It's  dark  in  there  like  a  tomb." 

"I  bet  yer,"  Elkan  said  fervently. 

"You  should  get  into  the  air  more  often,"  Flaxberg 
went  on.  "A  feller  could  get  all  sorts  of  things 
the  matter  with  him  staying  in  a  hole  like  that." 

"Gott  sei  dank  I  got,  anyhow,  my  health,"  Elkan 
commented. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Flaxberg  said  as  they  reached 
the  street;  "but  you  must  got  to  take  care  of  it  too. 
A  feller  which  he  don't  get  no  exercise  should  ought 
to  eat  well,  Lubliner.  For  instance,  I  bet  yer  you 
are  taking  every  day  your  lunch  in  a  bakery  —  ain't 
it?" 


40  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Elkan  nodded. 

"Well,  there  you  are!"  Flaxberg  cried  trium- 
phantly. "A  feller  works  all  the  time  in  a  dark 
hole  like  that  cutting  room,  and  comes  lunchtime 
he  fresses  a  bunch  of  Kuchen  and  a  cup  of  coffee, 
verstehst  du  —  and  is  it  any  wonder  you  are  looking 
sick?" 

"I  feel  all  right,"  Elkan  said. 

"I  know  you  feel  all  right,"  Flaxberg  continued, 
"but  you  look  something  terrible,  Lubliner.  Just 
for  to-day,  Lubliner,  take  my  advice  and  try  Wasser- 
bauer's regular  dinner." 

Elkan  laughed  aloud. 

"Wasserbauer's!"  he  exclaimed.  "Why,  what  do 
you  think  I  am,  Mr.  Flaxberg?  If  I  would  be  a 
salesman  like  you,  Mr.  Flaxberg,  I  would  say,  cYes; 
eat  once  in  a  while  at  Wasserbauer's';  aber  for  an 
assistant  cutter,  Mr.  Flaxberg,  Wasserbauer's  is 
just  so  high  like  the  Waldorfer." 

"That's  all  right,"  Flaxberg  retorted  airily. 
"No  one  asks  you  you  should  pay  for  it.  Come 
and  have  a  decent  meal  with  me." 

For  a  brief  interval  Elkan  hesitated,  but  at 
length  he  surrendered,  and  five  minutes  later  he 
found  himself  seated  opposite  Harry  Flaxberg  in 
the  rear  of  Wasserbauer's  cafe. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Flaxberg,"  he  said  as  he  commenced 
the  fourth  of  a  series  of  dill  pickles,  "compared 
with  a  salesman,  a  cutter  is  a  dawg's  life  —  ain't  it?" 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  41 

"Well,"  Flaxberg  commented,  "he  is  and  he  isn't. 
There's  no  reason  why  a  cutter  shouldn't  enjoy 
life  too,  Lubliner.  A  cutter  could  make  money 
on  the  side  just  so  good  as  a  salesman.  I  am 
acquainted  already  with  a  pants  cutter  by  the  name 
Schmul  Kleidermann  which,  one  afternoon  last 
week,  he  pulls  down  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
yet." 

"Pulls  down  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars!" 
Elkan  exclaimed.  "From  where  he  pulls  it  down, 
Mr.  Flaxberg?" 

"Not  from  the  pants  business  oser"  Flaxberg 
replied.  "The  feller  reads  the  papers,  Lubliner,  and 
that's  how  he  makes  his  money." 

"You  mean  he  is  speculating  in  these  here  stocks 
from  stock  exchanges?"  Elkan  asked. 

"Not  stocks,"  Flaxberg  replied  in  shocked  accents. 
"From  spieling  the  stock  markets  a  feller  could 
lose  his  shirt  yet.  Never  play  the  stock  markets, 
Lubliner.  That's  something  which  you  could  really 
say  a  feller  ruins  himself  for  life  with." 

Elkan  nodded. 

"Even  im  Russland  it's  the  same,"  he  said. 

"Sure,"  Flaxberg  went  on.  " Aber  this  feller 
Kleidermann  he  makes  a  study  of  it.  The  name  of 
the  horse  was  Prince  Faithful.  On  New  Year's 
Day  he  runs  fourth  in  a  field  of  six.  The  next 
week  he  is  in  the  money  for  a  show  with  such  old- 
timers  as  Aurora  Borealis,  Dixie  Lad  and  Ramble 


42  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Home  —  and  last  week  he  gets  away  with  it  six 
to  one  a  winner,  understand  me;  and  this  afternoon 
yet,  over  to  Judge  Crowley's,  I  could  get  a  price 
five  to  two  a  place,  understand  me,  which  it  is  like 
picking  up  money  in  the  street  already." 

Elkan  paused  in  the  process  of  commencing  the 
sixth  pickle  and  gazed  in  wide-eyed  astonishment 
at  his  host. 

"So  you  see,  Lubliner,"  Flaxberg  concluded, 
"if  you  would  put  up  twenty  dollars,  understand 
me,  you  could  make  fifty  dollars  more,  like  turning 
your  hand  over." 

Elkan  laid  down  his  half-eaten  pickle. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  want  me  I  should  put 
up  twenty  dollars  on  a  horse  which  it  is  running 
with  other  horses  a  race?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Well,"  Flaxberg  replied,  "of  course,  if  you  got 
objections  to  putting  up  money  on  a  horse,  Lubliner, 
why,  don't  do  it.  Lend  it  me  instead  the  twenty 
dollars  and  I  would  play  it;  and  if  the  horse  should  — 
Gott  soil  huten  —  not  be  in  the  money,  y'understand, 
then  I  would  give  you  the  twenty  dollars  back 
Saturday  at  the  latest.  Aber  if  the  horse  makes  a 
place,  understand  me,  then  I  would  give  you  your 
money  back  this  afternoon  yet  and  ten  dollars  to  boot." 

For  one  wavering  moment  Elkan  raised  the  pickle 
to  his  lips  and  then  replaced  it  on  the  table.  Then 
he  licked  off  his  fingers  and  explored  the  recess  of 
his  waistcoat  pocket. 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  43 

"Here,"  he  said,  producing  a  dime  —  "here  is 
for  the  dill  pickles,  Mr.  Flaxberg." 

"What  d'ye  mean?"  Flaxberg  cried. 

"I  mean  this,"  Elkan  said,  putting  on  his  hat  — 
"I  mean  you  should  save  your  money  with  me  and 
blow  instead  your  friend  Kleidermann  to  dinner, 
because  the  proposition  ain't  attractive." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Redman,"  Elkan  commented  when  he 
resumed  his  duties  as  assistant  cutter  after  the 
five  and  a  half  dill  pickles  had  been  supplemented 
with  a  hasty  meal  of  rolls  and  coffee,  "for  a  Schlemiel 
like  him  to  call  himself  a  salesman  —  honestly, 
it's  a  disgrace!" 

He  addressed  his  remarks  to  Joseph  Redman, 
head  cutter  for  Polatkin  &  Scheikowitz,  who  plied 
his  shears  industriously  at  an  adjoining  table. 
Joseph,  like  every  other  employee  of  Polatkin  & 
Scheikowitz,  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the 
details  of  Flaxberg's  hiring  and  its  denouement. 
Nevertheless,  in  his  quality  of  head  cutter,  he  pro- 
fessed a  becoming  ignorance. 

"Who  is  this  which  you  are  knocking  now?" 
he  asked. 

"I  am  knocking  some  one  which  he's  got  a  right 
to  be  knocked,"  Elkan  replied.  "I  am  knocking 
this  here  feller  Flaxberg,  which  he  calls  himself 
a  salesman.  That  feller  couldn't  sell  a  drink  of 
water  in  the  Sahara  Desert,  Mr.  Redman.  All  he 


44  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

cares  about  is  gambling  and  going  on  theaytres. 
Why,  if  I  would  be  in  his  shoes,  Mr.  Redman, 
I  wouldn't  eat  or  I  wouldn't  sleep  till  I  got  from 
Appenweier  &  Murray  an  order.  Never  mind  if 
my  uncle  would  be  fired  and  Mr.  Lapin,  the  new 
buyer,  is  a  relation  from  Sammet  Brothers,  Mr. 
Redman,  I  would  get  that  account,  understand  me, 
or  I  would  verplatz" 

"Yozu,  you  would  do  wonders!"  Redman  said. 
"The  best  thing  you  could  do,  Lubliner,  is  to  close 
up  your  face  and  get  to  work.  You  shouldn't  got 
so  much  to  say  for  yourself.  A  big  mouth  is  only 
for  a  salesman,  Lubliner.  For  a  cutter  it's  nix, 
understand  me;  so  you  should  give  me  a  rest  with 
this  here  Appenweier  &  Murray's  account  and  get 
busy  on  them  2o6o's.  We  are  behind  with  'em 
as  it  is." 

Thus  admonished,  Elkan  lapsed  into  silence;  and 
for  more  than  half  an  hour  he  pursued  his  duties 
diligently. 

"Nu!"  Redman  said  at  length.  "What's  the 
matter  you  are  acting  so  quiet  this  afternoon?" 

"What  d'ye  mean  I  am  acting  quiet,  Mr.  Red- 
man?" Elkan  asked.  "I  am  thinking  —  that's  all. 
Without  a  feller  would  think  once  in  a  while,  Mr. 
Redman,  he  remains  a  cutter  all  his  life." 

"There's  worser  things  as  cutters,"  Redman 
commented.  "For  instance  —  assistant  cutters." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Elkan  agreed;  "but  salesmen  is 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  45 

a  whole  lot  better  as  cutters  oder  assistant  cutters. 
A  salesman  sees  life,  Mr.  Redman.  He  meets  oncet 
in  a  while  people,  Mr.  Redman;  while,  with  us, 
what  is  it?  We  are  shut  up  here  like  we  would  be 
sitting  in  prison  —  ain't  it?" 

"You  ain't  got  no  kick  coming,"  Redman  said. 
"A  young  feller  only  going  on  eighteen,  understand 
me,  is  getting  ten  dollars  a  week  and  he  kicks  yet. 
Sitting  in  prison,  sagt  erl  Maybe  you  would  like 
the  concern  they  should  be  putting  in  moving  pic- 
tures here  or  a  phonygraftl" 

Elkan  sighed  heavily  by  way  of  reply  and  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  longer  he  worked  in  quietness, 
until  Redman  grew  worried  at  his  assistant's  unusual 
taciturnity. 

"What's  the  trouble  you  ain't  talking,  Lubliner?" 
he  said.  "Don't  you  feel  so  good?" 

Elkan  looked  up.  He  was  about  to  say  that  he 
felt  all  right  when  suddenly  he  received  the  germ 
of  an  inspiration,  and  in  the  few  seconds  that  he 
hesitated  it  blossomed  into  a  well-defined  plan  of 
action.  He  therefore  emitted  a  faint  groan  and 
laid  down  his  shears. 

"I  got  a  krank  right  here,"  he  said,  placing  his 
hand  on  his  left  side.  "  Ever  since  last  week  I  got  it." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  say  something  about  it 
before?"  Redman  cried  anxiously;  for  be  it  remem- 
bered that  Elkan  Lubliner  was  not  only  the  cousin 
of  Marcus  Polatkin  but  the  adopted  nephew  of 


46  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Philip  Scheikowitz  as  well.  "You  shouldn't  let 
such  things  go." 

"The  fact  is,"  Elkan  replied,  "I  didn't  want  to 
say  nothing  about  it  to  Mr.  Polatkin  on  account 
he's  got  enough  to  worry  him  with  this  here  Appen- 
weier  &  Murray's  account;  and " 

"You  got  that  account  on  the  brain,"  Redman 
interrupted.  "If  you  don't  feel  so  good  you  should 
go  home.  Leave  me  fix  it  for  you." 

As  he  spoke  he  hastily  buttoned  on  his  collar  and 
left  the  cutting  room,  while  Elkan  could  not  forego 
a  delighted  grin.  After  all,  he  reflected,  he  had 
worked  steadily  for  over  a  year  and  a  half  with  only 
such  holidays  as  the  orthodox  ritual  ordained;  and 
he  was  so  busy  making  plans  for  his  first  afternoon 
of  freedom  that  he  nearly  forgot  to  groan  again  when 
Redman  came  back  with  Marcus  Polatkin  at  his  heels. 

" Nu,  Elkan!"  Marcus  said.  "What's  the  matter? 
Don't  you  feel  good?" 

"I  got  a  krank  right  here,"  Elkan  replied,  placing 
his  hand  on  his  right  side.  "I  got  it  now  pretty 
near  a  week  already." 

"Well,  maybe  you  should  sit  down  for  the  rest 
of  the  afternoon  and  file  away  the  old  cutting  slips," 
Marcus  said,  whereat  Elkan  moaned  and  closed 
his  eyes. 

"  I  filed  'em  away  last  week  already,"  he  murmured. 
"I  think  maybe  if  I  would  lay  in  bed  the  rest  of. the 
afternoon  I  would  be  all  right  to-morrow." 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  47 

Marcus  gazed  earnestly  at  his  cousin,  whose 
sufferings  seemed  to  be  intensified  thereby. 

"All  right,  Elkan,"  he  said.  "Go  ahead.  Go 
home  and  tell  Mrs.  Feinermann  she  should  give 
you  a  little  Brusttee;  and  if  you  don't  feel  better 
in  the  morning  don't  take  it  so  particular  to  get 
here  early." 

Elkan  nodded  weakly  and  five  minutes  later 
walked  slowly  out  of  the  factory.  He  took  the 
stairs  only  a  little  less  slowly,  but  he  gradually 
increased  his  speed  as  he  proceeded  along  Wooster 
Street,  until  by  the  time  he  was  out  of  sight  of  the 
firm's  office  windows  he  was  fairly  running.  Thus 
he  arrived  at  his  boarding  place  on  Pitt  Street  in 
less  than  half  an  hour  —  just  in  time  to  interrupt 
Mrs.  Sarah  Feinermann  as  she  was  about  to  start 
on  a  shopping  excursion  uptown.  Mrs.  Feinermann 
exclaimed  aloud  at  the  sight  of  him,  and  her  com- 
plexion grew  perceptibly  less  florid,  for  his  advent 
in  Pitt  Street  at  that  early  hour  could  have  but 
one  meaning. 

"What's  the  matter  —  you  are  getting  fired?" 
she  asked. 

"What  d'ye  mean  —  getting  fired?"  Elkan  replied. 
"I  ain't  fired.  I  got  an  afternoon  off." 

Mrs.  Feinermann  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  As  the 
recipient  of  Elkan's  five  dollars  a  week  board-money, 
payable  strictly  in  advance,  she  naturally  evinced 
a  hearty  interest  in  his  financial  affairs.  Moreover, 


48  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

she  was  distantly  related  to  Elkan's  father;  and  owing 
to  this  kinship  her  husband,  Marx  Feinermann, 
foreman  for  Kupferberg  Brothers,  was  of  the  impres- 
sion that  she  charged  Elkan  only  three  dollars  and 
fifty  cents  a  week.  The  underestimate  more  than 
paid  Mrs.  Feinermann's  millinery  bill,  and  she  was 
consequently  under  the  necessity  of  buying  Elkan's 
silence  with  small  items  of  laundry  work  and  an 
occasional  egg  for  breakfast.  This  arrangement 
suited  Elkan  very  well  indeed;  and  though  he 
had  eaten  his  lunch  only  an  hour  previously  he 
thought  it  the  part  of  prudence  to  insist  that 
she  prepare  a  meal  for  him,  by  way  of  main- 
taining his  privileges  as  Mrs.  Feinermann's  fellow 
conspirator. 

"But  I  am  just  now  getting  dressed  to  go  uptown," 
she  protested. 

"Where  to?"  he  demanded. 

"I  got  a  little  shopping  to  do,"  she  said;  and 
Elkan  snapped  his  fingers  in  the  conception  of  a 
brilliant  idea. 

"Good I"  he  exclaimed.  "I  would  go  with  you. 
In  three  minutes  I  would  wash  myself  and  change 
my  clothes  —  and  I'll  be  right  with  you." 

"But  I  got  to  stop  in  and  see  Marx  first,"  she 
insisted.  "  I  want  to  tell  him  something." 

"I  wanted  to  tell  him  something  lots  of  times 
already,"  Elkan  said  significantly;  and  Mrs.  Feiner- 
mann sat  down  in  the  nearest  chair  while  Elkan 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  49 

disappeared  into  the  adjoining  room  and  performed 
a  hasty  toilet. 

" Schon  gut"  he  said  as  he  emerged  from  his  room 
five  minutes  later;  "we  would  go  right  up  to  Appen- 
weier  &  Murray's." 

"But  I  ain't  said  I  am  going  up  to  Appenweier 
&  Murray's,"  Mrs.  Feinermann  cried.  "Such  a 
high-price  place  I  couldn't  afford  to  deal  with  at  all." 

"I  didn't  say  you  could,"  Elkan  replied;  "but 
it  don't  do  no  harm  to  get  yourself  used  to  such 
places,  on  account  might  before  long  you  could 
afford  to  deal  there  maybe." 

"What  d'ye  mean  I  could  afford  to  deal  there 
before  long?"  Mrs.  Feinermann  inquired. 

"I  mean  this,"  Elkan  said,  and  they  started 
down  the  stairs  —  "  I  mean,  if  things  turn  out  like 
the  way  I  want  'em  to,  instead  of  five  dollars  a  week 
I  would  give  you  five  dollars  and  fifty  cents  a  week." 
Here  he  paused  on  the  stair-landing  to  let  the  news 
sink  in. 

"And  furthermore,  if  you  would  act  the  way  I 
tell  you  to  when  we  get  up  there  I  would  also  pay 
your  carfare,"  he  concluded  —  "one  way." 

When  Mrs.  Feinermann  entered  Appenweier  & 
Murray's  store  that  afternoon  she  was  immediately 
accosted  by  a  floorwalker. 

"What  do  you  wish,  madam?"  he  said. 

"I  want  to  buy  something  a  dress  for  my  wife," 


50  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Elkan  volunteered,  stepping  from  behind  the  shadow 
of  Mrs.  Feinermann,  who  for  her  thirty-odd  years 
was,  to  say  the  least,  buxom. 

"Your  wife?"  the  floorwalker  repeated. 

"Sure;  why  not?"  Elkan  replied.  "Maybe  I 
am  looking  young,  but  in  reality  I  am  old;  so  you 
should  please  show  us  the  dress  department,  from 
twenty-two-fifty  to  twenty-eight  dollars  the  gar- 


ment.'1 


The  floorwalker  ushered  them  into  the  elevator 
and  they  alighted  at  the  second  floor. 

"Miss  Holzmeyer!"  the  floorwalker  cried;  and 
in  response  there  approached  a  lady  of  uncertain 
age  but  of  no  uncertain  methods  of  salesmanship. 
She  was  garbed  in  a  silk  gown  that  might  have  graced 
the  person  of  an  Austrian  grand  duchess,  and  she 
rustled  and  swished  as  she  walked  toward  them  in 
what  she  had  always  found  to  be  a  most  impressive 
manner. 

"The  lady  wants  to  see  some  dresses,"  the  floor- 
walker said;  and  Miss  Holzmeyer  smiled  by  a  rather 
complicated  process,  in  which  her  nose  wrinkled 
until  it  drew  up  the  corners  of  her  mouth  and  made 
her  eyes  appear  to  rest  like  shoe-buttons  on  the  tops 
of  her  powdered  cheeks 

"This  way,  madam,"  she  said  as  she  swung  her 
skirts  round  noisily. 

"One  moment,"  Elkan  interrupted,  for  again 
he  had  been  totally  eclipsed  by  Mrs.  Feinermann's 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  51 

bulky  figure.  "You  ain't  heard  what  my  wife 
wants  yet." 

"Your  wife!"  Miss  Holzmeyer  exclaimed. 

"Sure,  my  wife,"  Elkan  replied  calmly.  "This 
is  my  wife  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you  and  you  ain't 
got  no  objections." 

He  gazed  steadily  at  Miss  Holzmeyer,  who  began 
to  find  her  definite  methods  of  salesmanship  growing 
less  definite,  until  she  blushed  vividly. 

"Not  at  all,"  she  said.     "Step  this  way,  please." 

"Yes,  Miss  Holzmeyer,"  Elkan  went  on  without 
moving,  "as  I  was  telling  you,  you  ain't  found 
out  yet  what  my  wife  wants,  on  account  a  dress 
could  be  from  twenty  dollars  the  garment  up  to  a 
hundred  and  fifty." 

"We  have  dresses  here  as  high  as  three  hundred  1" 
Miss  Holzmeyer  snapped.  She  had  discerned  that 
she  was  beginning  to  be  embarrassed  in  the  presence 
of  this  self-possessed  benedick  of  youthful  appear- 
ance, and  she  resented  it  accordingly. 

"I  ain't  doubting  it  for  a  minute,"  Elkan  replied. 
"New  York  is  full  of  suckers,  Miss  Holzmeyer; 
but  me  and  my  wife  is  looking  for  something  from 
twenty-two-fifty  to  twenty-eight  dollars,  Miss  Holz- 
meyer." 

Miss  Holzmeyer's  temper  mounted  with  each 
repetition  of  her  surname,  and  her  final  "Step 
this  way,  please  1"  was  uttered  in  tones  fairly  tremu- 
lous with  rage. 


52  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Elkan  obeyed  so  leisurely  that  by  the  time  Mrs. 
Feinermann  and  he  had  reached  the  rear  of  the 
showroom  Miss  Holzmeyer  had  hung  three  dresses 
on  the  back  of  a  chair. 

"H'allow  me,"  Elkan  said  as  he  took  the  topmost 
gown  by  the  shoulders  and  held  it  up  in  front  of 
him.  He  shook  out  the  folds  and  for  more  than 
five  minutes  examined  it  closely. 

"I  didn't  want  to  see  nothing  for  seventeen-fifty," 
he  announced  at  last  —  "especially  from  last  year's 
style." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Miss  Holzmeyer  cried 
angrily.  "That  dress  is  marked  twenty-eight  dol- 
lars and  it  just  came  in  last  week.  It's  a  very  smart 
model  indeed." 

"The  model  I  don't  know  nothing  about,"  Elkan 
replied,  "but  the  salesman  must  of  been  pretty 
smart  to  stuck  you  folks  like  that." 

He  subjected  another  gown  to  a  careful  scrutiny 
while  Miss  Holzmeyer  sought  the  showcases  for 
more  garments. 

"Now,  this  one  here,"  he  said,  "is  better  value. 
How  much  you  are  asking  for  this  one,  please?" 

Miss  Holzmeyer  glanced  at  the  price  ticket. 

"Twenty-eight  dollars,"  she  replied,  with  an 
indignant  glare. 

Elkan  whistled  incredulously. 

"You  don't  tell  me,"  he  said.  "I  always  heard 
it  that  the  expenses  is  high  uptown,  but  even  if  the 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  53 

walls  was  hung  mit  diamonds  yet,  Miss  Holzmeyer, 
your  bosses  wouldn't  starve  neither.  Do  you  got 
maybe  a  dress  for  twenty-eight  dollars  which  it  is 
worth,  anyhow,  twenty-five  dollars?" 

This  last  jibe  was  too  much  for  Miss  Holzmeyer. 

"Mis-ter  Lap-in!"  she  howled,  and  immediately 
a  glazed  mahogany  door  in  an  adjoining  partition 
burst  open  and  Max  Lapin  appeared  on  the  floor 
of  the  showroom. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked. 

Miss  Holzmeyer  sat  down  in  the  nearest  chair  and 
fanned  herself  with  her  pocket  handkerchief. 

"This  man  insulted  me!"  she  said;  whereat  Max 
Lapin  turned  savagely  to  Elkan. 

"What  for  you  are  insulting  this  lady?"  he 
demanded  as  he  made  a  rapid  survey  of  Elkan's 
physical  development.  He  was  quite  prepared  to 
defend  Miss  Holzmeyer's  honour  in  a  fitting  and 
manly  fashion;  but,  during  the  few  seconds  that 
supervened  his  question,  Max  reflected  that  you 
can  never  tell  about  a  small  man. 

"What  d'ye  mean  insult  this  lady?"  Elkan  asked 
stoutly.  "I  never  says  a  word  to  her.  Maybe 
I  ain't  so  long  in  the  country  as  you  are,  but  I  got 
just  so  much  respect  for  the  old  folks  as  anybody. 
Furthermore,  she  is  showing  me  here  garments  which, 
honest,  Mister  —  er " 

"Lapin,"  Max  said. 

"Mister  Lapin,  a  house  with  the  reputation  of 


54  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Appenweier  &  Murray  shouldn't  ought  to  got  in 
stock  at  all." 

"Say,  lookyhere,  young  feller,"  Lapin  cried, 
"what  are  you  driving  into  anyway?  I  am  buyer 
here,  and  if  you  got  any  kick  coming  tell  it  to  me, 
and  don't  go  insulting  the  salesladies." 

"  I  ain't  insulted  no  saleslady,  Mr.  Lapin,"  Elkan 
declared.  "I  am  coming  here  to  buy  for  my  wife 
a  dress  and  certainly  I  want  to  get  for  my  money 
some  decent  value;  and  when  this  lady  shows  me 
a  garment  like  this "  —  he  held  up  the  topmost 
garment  —  "  and  says  it  is  from  this  year  a  model, 
understand  me,  naturally  I  got  my  own  idees  on  the 
subject." 

Lapin  looked  critically  at  the  garment  in  question. 

"  Did  you  get  this  style  from  that  third  case  there, 
Miss  Holzmeyer?"  he  asked,  and  Miss  Holzmeyer 
nodded. 

"Well,  that  whole  case  is  full  of  leftovers  and 
I  don't  want  it  touched,"  Lapin  said.  "Now  go 
ahead  and  show  this  gentleman's  wife  some  more 
models;  and  if  he  gets  fresh  let  me  know  —  that's 
all." 

"One  minute,  Mr.  Lapin,"  Elkan  said.  "Will 
you  do  me  the  favour  and  let  me  show  you  some- 
thing?" 

He  held  up  the  garment  last  exhibited  by  Miss 
Holzmeyer  and  pointed  to  the  yoke  and  its  border. 

"This  here  garment  Miss  Holzmeyer  shows  me 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  55 

for  twenty-eight  dollars,  Mr.  Lapin,"  he  said, 
"and  with  me  and  my  wife  here  a  dollar  means 
to  us  like  two  dollars  to  most  people,  Mr.  Lapin. 
So  when  I  am  seeing  the  precisely  selfsame  garment 
like  this  in  Fine  Brothers'  for  twenty-six  dollars, 
but  the  border  is  from  silk  embroidery,  a  pea- 
cock's tail  design,  and  the  yoke  is  from  gilt  net 
yet,  understand  me,  I  got  to  say  something  —  ain't 
it?" 

Lapin  paused  in  his  progress  toward  his  office 
and  even  as  he  did  so  Elkan's  eyes  strayed  to  a 
glass-covered  showcase. 

"Why,  there  is  a  garment  just  like  Fine  Brothers' 
model  1"  he  exclaimed. 

"Say,  lookyherel"  Lapin  demanded  as  he  strode 
up  to  the  showcase  and  pulled  out  the  costume 
indicated  by  Elkan.  "What  are  you  trying  to  tell 
me?  This  here  model  is  thirty-seven  dollars  and 
fifty  cents;  so,  if  you  can  get  it  for  twenty-six  at 
Fine  Brothers',  go  ahead  and  do  it!" 

"But,  Mr.  Lapin,"  Elkan  said,  "that  ain't  no 
way  for  a  buyer  of  a  big  concern  like  this  to  talk. 
I  am  telling  you,  so  sure  as  you  are  standing  there 
and  I  should  never  move  from  this  spot,  the  iden- 
tical selfsame  style  Fine  Brothers  got  it  for  twenty- 
six  dollars.  I  know  it,  Mr.  Lapin,  because  we  are 
making  up  that  garment  in  our  factory  yet,  and 
Fine  Brothers  takes  from  us  six  of  that  model  at 
eighteen-fifty  apiece." 


56  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

At  this  unguarded  disclosure  Lapin's  face  grew 
crimson  with  rage. 

"You  are  making  it  up  in  your  factory!"  he  cried. 
"Why,  you  dirty  faker  you,  what  the  devil  you  are 
coming  round  here  bluffing  that  you  want  to  buy 
a  dress  for  your  wife  for?" 

Elkan  broke  into  a  cold  perspiration  and  looked 
round  for  Mrs.  Feinermann,  the  substantial  evidence 
of  his  marital  state;  but  at  the  very  beginning 
of  Max  Lapin's  indignant  outburst  she  had  dis- 
creetly taken  the  first  stairway  to  the  right. 

"Bring  that  woman  back  here  I"  Max  roared. 
Miss  Holzmeyer  made  a  dash  for  the  stairway, 
and  before  Elkan  had  time  to  formulate  even  a 
tentative  plan  of  escape  she  had  returned  with  her 
quarry. 

"What  do  you  want  from  me?"  Mrs.  Feinermann 
gasped.  Her  hat  was  awry,  and  what  had  once 
been  a  modish  pompadour  was  toppled  to  one  side 
and  shed  hairpins  with  every  palsied  nod  of  her 
head.  "I  ain't  done  nothing!"  she  protested. 

"Sure,  you  ain't,"  Elkan  said;  "so  you  should 
keep  your  mouth  shut  —  that's  all." 

"I  would  keep  my  mouth  shut  oder  not  as  I 
please,"  Mrs.  Feinermann  retorted.  "Furthermore, 
you  ain't  got  no  business  to  get  me  mixed  up  in  this 
Geschichte  at  all!" 

"Who  are  you  two  anyway?"  Max  demanded. 

"This  here  feller  is  a  young  feller  by  the  name 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  57 

of  Elkan  Lubliner  which  he  is  working  by  Polatkin 
&  Scheikowitz,"  Mrs.  Feinermann  announced;  "and 
what  he  is  bringing  me  up  here  for  is  more  than  I 
could  tell  you." 

"Ain't  he  your  husband?"  Max  asked. 

"Oser  a  Stuck!"  Mrs.  Feinermann  declared 
fervently.  "A  kid  like  him  should  be  my  husband  1 
An  idee!" 

"That's  all  right,"  Elkan  rejoined.  "Im  Russ- 
land  at  my  age  many  a  young  feller  is  got  twins  yet!" 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?"  Max  Lapin  de- 
manded. 

"It  ain't  got  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  Elkan  said, 
"but  it  shows  that  a  young  feller  like  me  which 
he  is  raised  in  the  old  country  ain't  such  a  kid  as 
you  think  for,  Mr.  Lapin.  And  when  I  am  telling 
you  that  the  concern  which  sells  you  them  goods 
to  retail  for  twenty-eight  dollars  is  sticking  you 
good,  understand  me,  you  could  take  my  word 
for  it  just  the  same  like  I  would  be  fifty-five  even." 

Again  he  seized  one  of  the  garments. 

"And  what's  more,"  he  went  on  breathlessly, 
"the  workmanship  is  rotten.  Look  at  here!  —  the 
seams  is  falling  to  pieces  already!" 

He  thrust  the  garment  under  Lapin's  nose  with 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  dug  down  into 
his  trousers  pocket. 

"Here!"  he  shouted.  "Here  is  money  —  fifty 
dollars!" 


58  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

He  dropped  the  gown  and  held  out  a  roll  of  bills 
toward  Lapin. 

"Take  it!"  he  said  hysterically.  "Take  it  all; 
and  if  I  don't  bring  you  to-morrow  morning,  first 
thing,  this  same  identical  style,  only  A-number-one 
workmanship,  which  you  could  retail  for  twenty 
dollars  a  garment,  understand  me,  keep  the  money 
and  jertig" 

At  this  juncture  the  well-nourished  figure  of 
Louis  Appenweier,  senior  member  of  Appenweier 
&  Murray,  appeared  in  the  door  of  the  elevator 
and  Max  Lapin  turned  on  his  heel. 

"Come  into  my  office,"  he  hissed;  and  as  he 
started  for  the  glazed  mahogany  door  he  gathered 
up  the  remaining  garments  and  took  them  with  him. 

For  more  than  half  an  hour  Elkan  and  Max 
Lapin  remained  closeted  together,  and  during  that 
period  Elkan  conducted  a  clinic  over  each  garment 
to  such  good  purpose  that  Max  sent  out  from  time 
to  time  for  more  expensive  styles.  All  of  these  were 
in  turn  examined  by  Elkan,  who  recognized  in  at 
least  six  models  the  designs  of  Joseph  Redman, 
slightly  altered  in  the  stealing  by  Leon  Sammet. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Lapin,"  Elkan  said,  "them  models 
was  all  designed  by  our  own  designer  and  some  one 
ganvered  'em  on  us.  Furthermore,  I  could  bring 
you  here  to-morrow  morning  at  eight  o'clock  from 
our  sample  racks  these  same  identical  models,  with 
the  prices  on  'em  marked  plain  like  the  figures  on 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  59 

a  ten-dollar  bill,  understand  me;  and  if  they  ain't 
from  twenty  to  thirty  per  cent,  lower  as  you  paid 
for  these  here  garments  I'd  eat  'em!" 

For  at  least  ten  minutes  Max  Lapin  sat  with 
knitted  brows  and  pondered  Elkan's  words. 

"Eight  o'clock  is  too  early,"  he  announced  at 
last.  "Make  it  half-past  nine." 

"Six,  even,  ain't  too  early  for  an  up-to-date 
buyer  to  look  at  some  genuine  bargains,"  Elkan 
insisted;  "and,  besides,  I  must  got  to  get  back  to 
the  shop  at  nine." 

"But "  Lapin  began. 

"But  nothing,  Mr.  Lapin,"  Elkan  said,  rising 
to  his  feet.  "Make  it  eight  o'clock,  and  the  next 
time  I  would  come  round  at  half-past  nine." 

"  What  d'ye  mean  the  next  time  ? "  Lapin  exclaimed. 

"I  mean  this  wouldn't  be  the  last  time  we  do 
business  together,  because  the  job  as  assistant 
cutter  which  I  got  it  is  just  temporary,  Mr.  Lapin," 
he  said  as  he  started  for  the  door  —  "just  tem- 
porary —  that's  all." 

He  paused  with  his  hand  on  the  doorknob. 

"See  you  at  eight  o'clock  to-morrow  morning," 
he  said  cheerfully;  and  five  minutes  later  he  was 
having  hard  work  to  keep  from  dancing  his  way 
down  Thirty-third  Street  to  the  subway. 

From  half -past  seven  in  the  morning  until  six 
at  night  were  the  working  hours  of  all  Polatkin 


60  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

&  Scheikowitz's  employees,  save  only  Sam  Markulies, 
the  shipping  clerk,  whose  duty  it  was  to  unlock 
the  shop  at  quarter- past  seven  sharp.  This  hour 
had  been  fixed  by  Philip  Scheikowitz  himself,  who, 
on  an  average  of  once  a  month,  would  stroll  into 
the  shipping  department  at  closing-time  and  an- 
nounce his  intention  of  going  to  a  wedding  that 
evening.  Sometimes  the  proposed  excursion  was 
a  pinocle  party  or  a  visit  to  the  theatre,  but  the 
denouement  was  always  the  same.  The  next 
morning  Scheikowitz  would  arrive  at  the  factory 
door  precisely  at  quarter-past  seven  to  find  Mar- 
kulies from  five  to  ten  minutes  late;  whereupon 
Markulies  would  receive  his  discharge,  to  take 
effect  the  following  Saturday  night  —  and  for  the 
ensuing  month  his  punctuality  was  assured. 

During  the  quarter  of  an  hour  which  preceded 
the  arrival  of  the  other  employees,  Markulies  usually 
dusted  the  office  and  showroom;  and  on  the  morning 
following  Elkan's  holiday  this  solitary  duty  was 
cheered  by  the  presence  of  Harry  Flaxberg.  Harry 
had  sought  the  advice  of  counsel  the  previous  day 
and  had  been  warned  against  tardiness  as  an  excuse 
for  his  discharge;  so  he  was  lounging  on  the  sidewalk 
long  before  Markulies's  arrival  that  morning. 

"Nu,  Mr.  Flaxberg,"  Markulies  cried,  "what 
brings  you  round  so  early?" 

"I  couldn't  sleep  last  night,"  Flaxberg  said;  "so 
I  thought  I  might  just  so  well  be  here  as  anywhere." 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  61 

"Ain't  that  the  funniest  thing!"  Markulies  cried. 
"Me  I  couldn't  sleep  neither.  I  got  something 
on  my  mind." 

He  unlocked  the  door  as  he  spoke;  and  as  he 
passed  up  the  stairs  he  declared  again  that  he  had 
something  on  his  mind. 

"Yozv!"  Flaxberg  said.  "I  should  got  your 
worries,  Markulies.  The  simple  little  things  which 
a  shipping  clerk  must  got  to  do  would  oser  give 
anybody  the  nervous  prostration." 

"Is  that  so?"  Markulies  retorted.  "Well,  I 
ain't  just  the  shipping  clerk  here,  Mr.  Flaxberg. 
You  must  remember  I  am  in  charge  with  the  keys 
also,  Mr.  Flaxberg;  and  I  got  responsibilities  if  some 
one  ganvers  a  couple  sample  garments  once  in  a 
while,  y'understand  —  right  away  they  would  accuse 
me  that  I  done  it." 

"Don't  worry  yourself,  Markulies,"  Flaxberg 
said.  "  I  ain't  going  to  ganver  no  garments  on  you  — 
not  this  morning  anyhow." 

".You  I  ain't  worrying  about  at  all,"  Markulies 
rejoined;  "but  that  young  bloodsucker,  Lubliner, 
Mr.  Flaxberg  —  that's  something  else  again.  Actu- 
ally that  young  feller  is  to  me  something  which 
you  could  really  call  a  thorn  in  my  pants,  Mr. 
Flaxberg.  Just  because  he  is  assistant  cutter  here 
and  I  am  only  the  shipping  clerk  he  treats  me  like 
I  would  be  the  dirt  under  his  feet.  Only  last  night, 
Mr.  Flaxberg,  I  am  locking  up  the  place  when  that 


62  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

feller  comes  up  the  stairs  and  says  to  me  I  should 
give  him  the  key,  as  he  forgets  a  package  which 
he  left  behind  him.  Mind  you,  it  is  already  half- 
past  six,  Mr.  Flaxberg;  and  ever  since  I  am  living 
up  in  the  Bronix,  Mr.  Flaxberg,  I  am  getting  kicked 
out  of  six  places  where  I  am  boarding  on  account 
no  respectable  family  would  stand  it,  Mr.  Flaxberg, 
that  a  feller  comes,  night  after  night,  nine  o'clock 
to  his  dinner." 

"You  was  telling  me  about  Lubliner,"  Flaxberg 
reminded  him. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Markulies  continued.  "So  I 
says  to  him  the  place  is  closed  and  that's  all  there 
is  to  it.  With  that,  Mr.  Flaxberg,  the  feller  takes 
back  his  hand  —  so  —  and  he  gives  me  a  schlag 
in  the  stummick,  which,  honest,  if  he  wouldn't  be 
from  Mr.  Polatkin  a  relation,  Mr.  Flaxberg,  I  would 
right  then  and  there  killed  him." 

For  two  minutes  he  patted  gently  that  portion 
of  his  anatomy  where  Elkan's  blow  had  landed. 

"He's  a  dangerous  feller,  Mr.  Flaxberg,"  he  went 
on,  "because,  just  so  soon  as  he  opens  the  door 
after  I  am  giving  him  the  key,  Mr.  Flaxberg,  he  shuts 
it  in  my  face  and  springs  the  bolt  on  me,  Mr.  Flax- 
berg —  and  there  I  am  standing  bis  pretty  near 
eight  o'clock,  understand  me,  till  that  feller  comes 
out  again.  By  the  time  I  am  at  my  room  on  Brook 
Avenue,  Mr.  Flaxberg,  the  way  Mrs.  Kaller  speaks 
to  me  you  would  think  I  was  a  dawg  yet.  How 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  63 

should  I  know  she  is  getting  tickets  for  the  theaytre 
that  evening,  Mr.  Flaxberg?  And  anyhow,  Mr. 
Flaxberg,  if  people  could  afford  to  spend  their 
money  going  on  theaytre,  understand  me,  they 
don't  need  to  keep  boarders  at  all  —  especially 
when  I  am  getting  night  after  night  boiled  Brust- 
deckel  only.  I  says  to  her,  'Mrs.  Kaller,'  I  says 
to  her,  'why  don't  you  give  me  once  in  a  while  a 
change?'  I  says " 

"Did  Lubliner  have  anything  with  him  when  he 
came  out?"  Flaxberg  interrupted. 

"Well,  sure;  he'd  got  the  package  he  forgets, 
and  how  a  feller  could  forget  a  package  that  size, 
Mr.  Flaxberg  —  honestly,  you  wouldn't  believe  at 
all!  That's  what  it  is  to  be  a  relation  to  the  boss, 
Mr.  Flaxberg.  If  I  would  got  such  a  memory, 
understand  me,  I  would  of  been  fired  long  since 
already.  Yes,  Mr.  Flaxberg,  I  says  to  Mrs.  Kaller, 
4  For  three  and  a  half  dollars  a  week  a  feller  should 
get  night  after  night  Brustdeckel  —  it's  a  shame  — 
honest!'  I  says;  and  —  stiegenl  There's  Mr.  Schei- 
kowitz!" 

As  he  spoke  he  seized  a  feather  duster  and  began 
to  wield  it  vigorously,  so  that  by  the  time  Philip 
Scheikowitz  reached  the  showroom  door  a  dense 
cloud  of  dust  testified  to  Markulies's  industry. 

"That'll  do,  Sam!"  Philip  cried.  "What  do  you 
want  to  do  here  —  choke  us  all  to  death?" 

Gradually    the    dust    subsided    and    disclosed    to 


64  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Philip's  astonished  gaze  Harry  Flaxberg  seated  on 
a  sample  table  and  apparently  lost  in  the  perusal 
of  the  Daily  Cloak  and  Suit  Record. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,"  he  said 
heartily,  but  Philip  only  grunted  in  reply.  More- 
over, he  walked  hurriedly  past  Flaxberg  and  closed 
the  office  door  behind  him  with  a  resounding  bang, 
for  he,  too,  had  sought  the  advice  of  counsel  the 
previous  evening;  and  on  that  advice  he  had  left 
his  bed  before  daylight,  only  to  find  himself  fore- 
stalled by  the  wily  Flaxberg.  Nor  was  his  chagrin 
at  all  decreased  by  Polatkin,  who  had  promised 
to  meet  his  partner  at  quarter-past  seven.  Instead 
he  arrived  an  hour  later  and  immediately  proceeded 
to  upbraid  Scheikowitz  for  Flaxberg's  punctuality. 

"What  do  you  mean  that  feller  gets  here  before 
you?"  he  cried.  "Didn't  you  hear  it  the  lawyer 
distinctively  told  you  you  should  get  here  before 
Flaxberg,  and  when  Flaxberg  arrives  you  should 
tell  him  he  is  fired  on  account  he  is  late?  Honestly, 
Scheikowitz,  I  don't  know  what  comes  over  you 
lately  the  way  you  are  acting.  Here  we  are  paying 
the  lawyer  ten  dollars  he  should  give  us  an  advice, 
understand  me,  and  we  might  just  so  well  throw 
our  money  in  the  streets!" 

"But  Flaxberg  wasn't  late,  Polatkin,"  Scheiko- 
wizt  protested.  "He  was  early." 

"Don't  argue  with  me,  Scheikowitz,"  Polatkin 
said.  "Let's  go  outside  and  talk  to  him." 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  65 

Philip  shrugged  despairingly  as  they  walked  to 
the  office  door. 

"Flaxberg,"  he  began  as  he  discerned  the  city 
salesman  again  using  a  sample  table  for  a  footstool, 
"don't  let  us  disturb  you  if  you  ain't  through  reading 
the  paper  yet." 

"Yes,  Flaxberg,"  Polatkin  added,  "you  could 
get  down  here  so  early  like  you  would  be  sleeping 
in  the  place  all  night  yet,  and  what  is  it?  Take 
from  the  table  the  feet,  Flaxberg,  and  be  a  man. 
We  got  something  to  say  to  you." 

"Go  ahead,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  Flaxberg  said  as  he 
leisurely  brought  his  feet  to  the  floor.  "Fm  lis- 
tening." 

"In  the  first  place,  Flaxberg,"  Polatkin  said, 
"did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that,  even  if  your  uncle 
wouH  got  fired  up  to  Appenweier  &  Murray's, 
Redman  designs  for  us  a  line  of  garments  here  which 
them  people  might  be  interested  in  anyhow?" 

"  Yozu,  they  would  be  interested  in  our  line!" 
Flaxberg  cried.  "Lapin  wouldn't  buy  only  Sammet 
Brothers'  line  if  we  got  Worth  and  Paquin  both 
working  for  us  as  designers.  You  couldn't  convince 
him  otherwise,  Mr.  Polatkin." 

"That's  all  right,"  Polatkin  went  on;  "but  it 
wouldn't  do  no  harm  for  you  to  anyhow  see  the 
feller  and  show  him  a  couple  garments  which  we 
got  it  here.  Take  for  instance  them  io8o's,  which 
we  are  selling  Fine  Brothers,  oder  that  2060  — 


66  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

that  overskirt  effect  with  the  gilt  net  yoke  and  pea- 
cock-feather-design braid,  Flaxberg.  Them  two 
styles  made  a  big  hit,  Flaxberg.  They  are  all 
hanging  on  that  end  rack  there,  Flaxberg,  and  you 
could  look  at  'em  for  yourself." 

Polatkin  walked  across  the  showroom  to  the  rack 
in  question. 

"  Especially  the  2o6o's,"  he  said  as  he  pulled 
aside  the  heavy  denim  curtain  which  protected  the 
contents  of  the  rack,  "which  you  could  really 
say  is " 

Here  he  paused  abruptly  —  for,  with  the  exception 
of  a  dozen  wooden  hangers,  the  rack  was  empty. 

"What's  this,  Scheikowitz?"  he  cried  with  a 
sweep  of  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  rack. 
"Where  is  all  them  io8o's  and  2o6o's?" 

Hastily  the  two  partners  examined  every  rack 
in  the  showroom;  and  not  only  did  they  fail  to 
discover  the  missing  samples,  but  they  ascertained 
that,  in  addition,  seven  other  choice  styles  had 
disappeared. 

"See  maybe  is  Redman  using  'em  in  the  cutting 
room,"  Scheikowitz  suggested;  and  forthwith  they 
made  a  canvass  of  the  cutting  room  and  factory, 
in  which  they  were  joined  by  Markulies. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Scheikowitz?"  he  asked. 

"We  are  missing  a  dozen  sample  garments," 
Scheikowitz  replied. 

" Missing  1"  Markulies  loudly  exclaimed.     "What 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  67 

d'ye  mean  —  missing,  Mr.  Scheikowitz?  Last  night, 
when  I  was  covering  up  the  racks,  everything  was 
in  place." 

Suddenly  a  wave  of  recollection  swept  over  him 
and  he  gave  tongue  like  a  foxhound. 

"Oo-oo-ee!"  he  wailed  and  sank  into  the  nearest 
chair. 

"Markulies,"  Polatkin  cried  out,  "for  Heaven's 
sake,  what  is  it?" 

"He  must  of  ganvered  'em!"  Markulies  wailed. 
"Right  in  front  of  my  eyes  he  done  it." 

"Who  done  it?"  Scheikowitz  cried. 

"Lubliner,"  Markulies  moaned. 

"  Lubliner ! "  Polatkin  cried.  "  Do  you  mean  Elkan 
Lubliner?" 

"That's  what  I  said,"  Markulies  went  on. 
"Comes  half -past  six  last  night,  and  that  ganef 
makes  me  a  schlag  in  the  stummick,  Mr.  Polatkin; 
and  the  first  thing  you  know  he  goes  to  work  and 
steals  from  me  my  keys,  Mr.  Polatkin,  and  cleans 
out  the  whole  place  yet." 

"Lubliner  was  itere  last  night  after  we  are  going 
home?"  Polatkin  asked. 

"Sure,  he  was,"  Markulies  replied  —  "at  half- 
past  six  yet." 

"Then  that  only  goes  to  show  what  a  liar  you  are," 
Polatkin  declared,  "because  myself  I  am  letting 
Elkan  go  home  at  one  o'clock  on  account  the  feller 
is  so  sick,  understand  me,  he  could  hardly  walk 


68  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

out  of  the  place  at  all.  Furthermore,  he  says  he 
is  going  right  straight  to  bed  when  he  leaves  here; 
so,  if  you  want  to  explain  how  it  is  the  garments 
disappear  when  you  are  in  the  place  here  alone, 
Markulies,  go  ahead  with  your  lies.  Might  Mr. 
Scheikowitz  stole  'em  maybe  —  or  I  did!  What?" 

Markulies  began  to  rock  and  sway  in  an  agony 
of  woe. 

"I  should  never  stir  from  this  here  chair,  Mr. 
Polatkin,"  Markulies  protested,  "and  my  mother 
also,  which  I  am  sending  her  to  Kalvaria  —  regular 
like  clockwork  —  ten  dollars  a  month,  she  should 
never  walk  so  far  from  here  bis  that  door,  if  that 
ganef  didn't  come  in  here  last  night  and  make 
away  with  the  garments  1" 

"  Koosh!"  Polatkin  bellowed,  and  made  a  threat- 
ening gesture  toward  Markulies  just  as  Scheikowitz 
, stepped  forward. 

"That'll  do,  Polatkin,"  he  said.  "If  the  feller 
lies  we  could  easy  prove  it  —  ain't  it?  In  the 
first  place,  where  is  Elkan?" 

"He  must  of  been  sick  this  morning  on  account 
he  ain't  here  yet,"  Polatkin  said. 

" Schon  gut"  Scheikowitz  rejoined;  "if  he  ain't 
here  he  ain't  here,  verstehst  du,  aber  he  is  boarding 
with  Mrs.  Feinermann,  which  her  husband  is 
Kupferberg  Brothers'  foreman  —  ain't  it?" 

Polatkin  nodded  and  Scheikowitz  turned  to 
kulies. 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  69 

"Markulies,"  he  said,  "do  me  the  favour  and  stop 
that!  You  are  making  me  dizzy  the  way  you 
are  acting.  Furthermore,  Markulies,  you  should 
put  on  right  away  your  hat  and  run  over  to  Kup- 
ferberg  Brothers'  and  say  to  ^lr.  B.  Kupferberg  you 
are  coming  from  Polatkin  &  Scheikowitz,  and  ask 
him  is  he  agreeable  he  should  let  Marx  Feinermann 
come  over  and  see  us  —  and  if  he  wants  to  know 
what  for  tell  him  we  want  to  get  from  him  a  recom- 
mendation for  a  feller  which  is  working  for  us." 

He  turned  to  his  partner  as  Markulies  started 
for  the  stairway. 

"And  a  helluva  recommendation  we  would  get 
from  him,  too,  I  bet  yer!"  he  added.  "Wasserbauer 
tells  me  Elkan  was  in  his  place  yesterday,  and, 
though  he  don't  watch  every  bit  of  food  a  customer 
puts  into  his  mouth,  understand  me,  he  says  that 
he  eats  dill  pickles  one  right  after  the  other;  and 
then,  Polatkin,  the  young  feller  gets  right  up  and 
walks  right  out  6T  the  place  without  giving  any 
order  even.  Wasserbauer  says  he  knows  it  was 
Elkan  because  one  day  I  am  sending  him  over  to 
look  for  you  there.  Wasserbauer  asks  him  the 
simple  question  what  he  wants  you  for,  and  right 
away  Elkan  acts  fresh  to  him  like  anything." 

"He  done  right  to  act  fresh,"  Polatkin  said  as 
they  walked  back  to  the  showroom.  "What  is 
it  Wasserbauer's  business  what  you  want  me  for?" 

"But  how  comes  a  young  feller  like  him  to  be 


70  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

eating  at  Wasserbauer's?"  Scheikowitz  continued. 
"Where  does  he  get  the  money  from  he  should  eat 
there?" 

"The  fact  is" —  said  Flaxberg,  who  up  to  this  point 
had  remained  a  silent  listener  to  the  entire  contro- 
versy—  "the  fact  is,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  yesterday 
I  am  taking  pity  on  the  feller  on  account  he  is  looking 
sick;  and  I  took  him  into  Wasserbauer's  and  invited 
him  he  should  eat  a  little  something." 

Here  he  paused  and  licked  his  lips  maliciously. 

"And  though  I  don't  want  to  say  nothing  against 
the  feller,  understand  me,"  he  continued,  "he  begins 
right  away  to  talk  about  horseracing." 

"Horseracing?"  Polatkin  cried. 

Flaxberg  nodded  and  made  a  gesture  implying 
more  plainly  than  the  words  themselves:  "Can 
you  beat  it?" 

"Horseracing!"  Scheikowitz  repeated.  "Well,  what 
do  you  think  of  that  for  a  lowlife  bum?" 

"And  when  I  called  him  down  for  gambling, 
Mr.  Polatkin,  he  walks  right  out,  so  independent 
he  is.  Furthermore,  though  it's  none  of  my  busi- 
ness, Mr.  Polatkin,"  Flaxberg  went  on,  "Markulies 
tells  me  this  morning  early  the  same  story  like  he 
tells  you  —  before  he  knew  the  goods  was  missing 


even." 


"Sure,  I  believe  you,"  Polatkin  retorted.  "He 
was  getting  the  whole  thing  fixed  up  beforehand. 
That's  the  kind  of  Rosher  he  is." 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  71 

As  he  spoke  Markulies  entered,  and  there  followed 
on  his  heels  the  short,  stout  figure  of  Marx  Feiner- 
mann. 

"What  did  I  told  you?"  Markulies  cried.  "The 
feller  ain't  home  sick  at  all.  He  eats  his  supper 
last  night,  and  this  morning  he  is  got  two  eggs  for 
his  breakfast  even." 

"  S'nough,  Markulies ! "  Polatkin  interrupted. 
"You  got  too  much  to  say  for  yourself.  Sit  down, 
Feinermann,  and  tell  us  what  is  the  reason  Elkan 
ain't  here  this  morning." 

"You  tell  me  and  I  would  tell  you,"  Feinermann 
replied.  "All  I  know  is  the  feller  leaves  my  house 
the  usual  time  this  morning;  only  before  he  goes 
he  acts  fresh  to  my  wife  like  anything,  Mr.  Polatkin. 
He  kicks  the  coffee  ain't  good,  even  when  my  wife 
is  giving  him  two  eggs  to  his  breakfast  anyhow. 
What  some  people  expects  for  three-fifty  a  week 
you  wouldn't  believe  at  all!" 

"What  do  you  mean  —  three-fifty  a  week?" 
Polatkin  demanded.  "He  pays  your  wife  five  dol- 
lars a  week  schon  six  months  ago  already.  He  told 
me  so  himself." 

"  I  ain't  responsible  for  what  that  boy  tells  you," 
Feinermann  said  stolidly.  "All  I  know  is  he  pays 
me  three-fifty  a  week;  and  you  would  think  he  is 
used  to  eating  chicken  every  day  from  zu  Hause 
yet,  the  way  he  is  all  the  time  kicking  about  his 
food." 


72  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Markulies  snorted  indignantly. 

"He  should  got  the  Machshovos  Mrs.  Kaller  hands 
it  to  me,"  he  said  —  "  gekochte  Brustdeckel  day  in, 
day  out;  and  then  I  am  accused  that  I  steal  samples 
yet!  I  am  sick  and  tired  of  it!" 

"Stiegen!"  Polatkin  cried.  "Listen  here  to  me, 
Feinermann.  Do  you  mean  to  told  me  the  boy 
ain't  paying  you  five  dollars  a  week  board?" 

As  Feinermann  opened  his  mouth  to  reply  the 
showroom  door  opened  and  Elkan  himself  entered. 

"Loafer!"  Scheikowitz  roared.    "Where  was  you?" 

Elkan  made  no  reply,  but  walked  to  the  centre 
of  the  showroom. 

"Mr.  Polatkin,"  he  said,  "could  I  speak  to  you 
a  few  words  something?" 

Polatkin  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"Before  you  speak  to  me  a  few  words  something," 
he  said,  "I  want  to  ask  you  what  the  devil  you  are 
telling  me  lies  that  you  pay  Mrs.  Feinermann  five 
dollars  a  week  board  ? " 

"What  are  you  bothering  about  that  for  now?" 
Scheikowitz  interrupted.  "And,  anyhow,  you  could 
see  by  the  way  the  feller  is  red  like  blood  that  he 
lies  to  you." 

"Furthermore,"  Feinermann  added,  "my  wife 
complains  to  me  last  night  that  young  loafer  takes 
her  uptown  yesterday  on  a  wild  fool's  errand,  under- 
stand me,  and  together  they  get  pretty  near  kicked 
out  of  a  drygoods  store." 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  73 

"She  told  you  that,  did  she?"  Elkan  cried. 

"That's  what  I  said!"  Feinermann  retorted. 

"Then,  if  that's  the  case,  Feinermann,"  Elkan 
replied,  "all  I  can  say  is,  I  am  paying  your  wife 
five  dollars  a  week  board  schon  six  months  already, 
and  if  she  is  holding  out  on  you  a  dollar  and  a  half 
a  week  that's  her  business  —  not  mine." 

"Don't  make  things  worser  as  they  are,  Lubliner," 
Flaxberg  advised.  "You  are  in  bad,  anyhow,  and 
lying  don't  help  none.  What  did  you  done  with 
the  samples  you*  took  away  from  here?" 

"What  is  it  your  business  what  I  done  with  'em?" 
Elkan  retorted. 

"Don't  get  fresh,  Elkan!"  Polatkin  said.  "What 
is  all  this  about,  anyhow?  First,  you  are  leaving 
here  yesterday  on  account  you  are  sick;  next,  you 
are  going  uptown  with  Mrs.  Feinermann  and  get 
kicked  out  of  a  drygoods  store;  then  you  come  back 
here  and  steal  our  samples." 

"Steal  your  samples!"  Elkan  cried. 

"You  admitted  it  yourself  just  now,"  Flaxberg 
interrupted.  "You  are  a  thief  as  well  as  a  liar!" 

Had  Flaxberg's  interest  in  sport  extended  to 
pugilism,  he  would  have  appreciated  the  manner  in 
which  Elkan's  chest  and  arm  muscles  began  to  swell 
under  his  coat,  even  if  the  ominous  gleam  in  Elkan's 
flark  eyes  had  provided  no  other  warning.  As  it 
was,  however,  Elkan  put  into  practice  the  knowledge 
gained  by  a  nightly  attendance  at  the  gymnasium 


74  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

on  East  Broadway.  He  stepped  back  two  paces, 
and  left  followed  right  so  rapidly  to  the  point  of 
Flaxberg's  jaw  that  the  impact  sounded  like  one 
blow. 

Simultaneously  Flaxberg  fell  back  over  the  sample 
tables  and  landed  with  a  crash  against  the  office 
partition  just  as  the  telephone  rang  loudly.  Perhaps 
it  was  as  well  for  Flaxberg  that  he  was  unprepared 
for  the  onslaught,  since,  had  he  been  in  a  rigid 
posture,  he  would  have  assuredly  taken  the  count. 
Beyond  a  cut  lip,  however,  and  a  lump  on  the  back 
of  his  head,  he  was  practically  unhurt;  and  he 
jumped  to  his  feet  immediately.  Nor  was  he 
impeded  by  a  too  eager  audience,  for  Markulies 
and  Feinermann  had  abruptly  fled  to  the  farthermost 
corner  of  the  cutting  room,  while  Marcus  and 
Philip  had  ducked  behind  a  sample  rack;  so  that  he 
had  a  clear  field  for  the  rush  he  made  at  Elkan. 
He  yelled  with  rage  as  he  dashed  wildly  across  the 
floor,  but  the  yell  terminated  with  an  inarticulate 
grunt  when  Elkan  stopped  the  rush  with  a  drive 
straight  from  the  shoulder.  It  found  a  target  on 
Flaxberg's  nose,  and  he  crumpled  up  on  the  show- 
room floor. 

For  two  minutes  Elkan  stood  still  and  then  he 
turned  to  the  sample  racks. 

"Mr.  Polatkin,"  he  said,  "the  telephone  is  ring- 
ing." 

Polatkin  came  from  behind  the  rack  and  auto- 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  75 

matically  proceeded  to  the  office,  while  Scheikowitz 
peeped  out  of  the  denim  curtains. 

"You  got  to  excuse  me,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,"  Elkan 
murmured.  "I  couldn't  help  myself  at  all." 

"You've  killed  him!"  Scheikowitz  gasped. 

"Yow!  I've  killed  him!"  Elkan  exclaimed.  "It 
would  take  a  whole  lot  more  as  that  to  kill  a  bum 
like  him." 

He  bent  over  Flaxberg  and  shook  him  by  the 
shoulder. 

"Hey!"  he  shouted  in  his  ear.  "You  are  ruining 
your  clothes!" 

Flaxberg  raised  his  drooping  head  and,  assisted 
by  Elkan,  regained  his  feet  and  staggered  to  the 
water-cooler,  where  Elkan  bathed  his  streaming  nos- 
trils with  the  icy  fluid. 

At  length  Scheikowitz  stirred  himself  to  action 
just  as  Polatkin  relinquished  the  'phone. 

"Markulies,"  Scheikowitz  shouted,  "go  out  and 
get  a  policeman!" 

"Don't  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  Markulies!" 
Polatkin  declared.  "I  got  something  to  say  here 
too." 

He  turned  severely  to  Elkan. 

"Leave  that  loafer  alone  and  listen  to  me,"  he 
said.  "What  right  do  you  got  to  uromise  deliveries 
on  them  2o6o's  in  a  week?" 

"I  thought "  Elkan  began. 

"You  ain't  got  no  business  to  think,"  Polatkin 


76  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

interrupted.  "The  next  time  you  are  selling  a 
concern  like  Appenweier  &  Murray  don't  promise 
nothing  in  the  way  of  deliveries,  because  with 
people  like  them  it's  always  the  same.  If  you 
tell  'em  a  week  they  ring  you  up  and  insist  on  it 
they  would  got  to  got  the  goods  in  five  days." 

He  put  his  hand  on  Elkan's  shoulder;  and  the  set 
expression  of  his  face  melted  until  his  short  dark 
moustache  disappeared  between  his  nose  and  his 
under  lip  in  a  widespread  grin. 

"Come  inside  the  office,"  he  said  —  "you  too, 
Scheikowitz.  Elkan's  got  a  long  story  he  wants 
to  tell  us." 

Half  an  hour  later,  Sam  Markulies  knocked 
timidly  at  the  office  door. 

"Mr.  Polatkin,"  he  said,  "Marx  Feinermann 
says  to  me  to  ask  you  if  he  should  wait  any  longer 
on  account  they're  very  busy  over  to  Kupferberg 
Brothers'." 

"Tell  him  he  should  come  in  here,"  Polatkin  said; 
and  Markulies  withdrew  after  gazing  in  open- 
mouthed  wonder  at  the  spectacle  of  Elkan  Lubliner 
seated  at  Polatkin's  desk,  with  one  of  Polatkin's 
mildest  cigars  in  his  mouth,  while  the  two  partners 
sat  in  adjacent  chairs  and  smiled  on  Elkan  admiringly. 

"You  want  to  speak  to  me,  Mr.  Polatkin?" 
Feinermann  asked,  as  he  came  in  a  moment  after- 
ward. 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  77 

"Sure,"  Polatkin  replied  as  he  handed  the  aston- 
ished Feinermann  a  cigar.  "Sit  down,  Feinermann, 
and  listen  to  me.  In  the  first  place,  Feinermann, 
what  for  a  neighborhood  is  Pitt  Street  to  live  in? 
Why  don't  you  move  uptown,  Feinermann?" 

"A  foreman  is  lucky  if  he  could  live  in  Pitt  Street 
even,"  Feinermann  said.  "You  must  think  I  got 
money,  Mr.  Polatkin." 

"How  much  more  a  month  would  it  cost  you  to 
live  uptown?"  Polatkin  continued.  "At  the  most 
ten  dollars  —  ain't  it?" 

Feinermann  nodded  sadly. 

"To  a  man  which  he  is  only  a  foreman,  Mr. 
Polatkin,  ten  dollars  is  ten  dollars,"  he  commented. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Polatkin  said;  "but  instead  of 
five  dollars  a  week  board,  Elkan  would  pay  you 
seven  dollars  a  week,  supposing  you  would  move  up 
to  Lenox  Avenue.  Ain't  that  right,  Elkan?" 

"Sure,  that's  right,"  Elkan  said.  "Only,  if  I 
am  paying  him  seven  dollars  a  week  board,  he  must 
got  to  give  Mrs.  Feinermann  a  dollar  and  a  half 
extra  housekeeping  money.  Is  that  agreeable,  Fein- 
ermann?" 

Again  Feinermann  nodded. 

"Then  that's  all  we  want  from  you,  Feinermann," 
Polatkin  added,  "except  I  want  to  tell  you  this 
much:  I  am  asking  Elkan  he  should  come  uptown 
and  live  with  me;  and  he  says-  no  —  he  would  prefer 
to  stick  where  he  is." 


78  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Femermann  shrugged  complacently. 

"  I  ain't  got  no  objections,"  he  said  as  he  withdrew. 

"And  now,  Elkan,"  Polatkin  cried,  "we  got  to 
fix  it  up  with  the  other  feller." 

Hardly  had  he  spoken  when  there  stood  framed 
in  the  open  doorway  the  disheveled  figure  of  Flax- 
berg. 

"Nu,  Flaxberg,"  Polatkin  said.  "What  d'ye 
want  from  us  now?" 

"I  am  coming  to  tell  you  this,  Mr.  Polatkin," 
Flaxberg  said  thickly  through  his  cut  and  swollen 
lips:  "I  am  coming  to  tell  you  that  I'm  sick  and 
so  you  must  give  me  permission  to  go  home." 

"Nobody  wants  you  to  stay  here,  Flaxberg," 
Polatkin  answered. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Flaxberg  rejoined;  "but  if  I 
would  go  home  without  your  consent  you  would 
claim  I  made  a  breach  of  my  contract." 

"Don't  let  that  worry  you  in  the  least,  Flaxberg," 
Polatkin  retorted,  "because,  so  far  as  that  goes, 
we  fire  you  right  here  and  now,  on  account  you  didn't 
make  no  attempt  to  sell  Appenweier  &  Murray, 
when  a  boy  like  Elkan,  which  up  to  now  he  wasn't 
even  a  salesman  at  all,  could  sell  'em  one  thousand 
dollars  goods." 

Flaxberg's  puffed  features  contorted  themselves 
in  an  expression  of  astonishment. 

"Lubliner  sells  Appenweier  &  Murray  a  bill  of 
goods!"  he  exclaimed. 


APPENWEIER'S  ACCOUNT  79 

By  way  of  answer  Polatkin  held  out  the  order 
slip  for  Flaxberg's  inspection. 

"That's  all  right,"  Flaxberg  declared.  "I  would 
make  it  hot  for  you  anyhow!  You  put  this  young 
feller  up  to  it  that  he  pretty  near  kills  me." 

"  Yowl  We  put  him  up  to  it!"  Polatkin  retorted. 
"You  put  him  up  to  it  yourself,  Flaxberg.  You 
are  lucky  he  didn't  break  your  neck  for  you;  because, 
if  you  think  you  could  sue  anybody  in  the  courts 
yet,  we  got  for  witness  Feinermann,  Markulies  and 
ourselves  that  you  called  him  a  liar  and  a  thief." 

" Nu,  Polatkin,"  Scheikowitz  said,  "give  him  say 
a  hundred  dollars  and  call  it  square." 

"You  wouldn't  give  me  five  hundred  dollars," 
Flaxberg  shouted  as  he  started  for  the  door,  "because 
I  would  sue  you  in  the  courts  for  five  thousand 
dollars  yet." 

Flaxberg  banged  the  door  violently  behind  him, 
whereat  Polatkin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Bluffs  he  is  making  it!"  he  declared;  and  forth- 
with he  began  to  unfold  plans  for  Elkan's  new 
campaign  as  city  salesman.  He  had  not  proceeded 
very  far,  however,  when  there  came  another  knock 
at  the  door.  It  was  Sam  Markulies. 

"Mr.  Flaxberg  says  to  me  I  should  ask  you  if 
he  should  wait  for  the  hundred  dollars  a  check, 
or  might  you  would  mail  it  to  him  maybe!"  he 
said. 

Scheikowitz  looked  inquiringly  at  his  partner. 


8o  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Put  on  it,  'In  full  of  all  claims  against  Polatkin 
&  Scheikowitz  or  Elkan  Lubliner  to  date,' "  he  said. 
"And  when  you  get  through  with  that,  Scheikowitz, 
write  an  'ad'  for  an  assistant  cutter.  We've  got 
to  get  busy  on  that  Appenweier  &  Murray  order 
right  away." 


CHAPTER  THREE 
A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

MADE  IN  HEAVEN,  WITH  THE  ASSISTANCE  OF 
MAX  KAPFER 

I  WOULDN'T  care  if  Elkan  Lubliner  was  only 
eighteen  even,"  declared  Morris  Rashkind  em- 
phatically; "he  ain't  too  young  to  marry  B. 
Maslik's  a  Tochter.  There's  a  feller  which  he  has 
got  in  improved  property  alone,  understand  me, 
an  equity  of  a  hundred  to  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars;  and  if  you  would  count  second 
mortgages  and  Bronix  lots,  Mr.  Polatkin,  the  feller  is 
worth  easy  his  quarter  of  a  million  dollars." 

"Sure  I  know,"  Polatkin  retorted.  "With  such  a 
feller,  he  gives  his  daughter  when  she  gets  married 
five  thousand  dollars  a  second  mortgage,  understand 
me;  and  the  most  the  Chosan  could  expect  is  that 
some  day  he  forecloses  the  mortgage  and  gets  a 
deficiency  judgment  against  a  dummy  bondsman 
which  all  his  life  he  never  got  money  enough  to  pay 
his  laundry  bills  even!" 

"Oser  a  Stuck!"  Rashkind  protested.  "He  says 
to  me,  so  sure  as  you  are  sitting  there,  'Mr.  Rash- 
Si 


82  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

kind,'  he  says,  'my  dear  friend,'  he  says,  'Birdie  is 
my  only  Tochter.  I  ain't  got  no  other  one,'  he  says, 
'Gott  sei  Dank,9  he  says;  'and  the  least  I  could  do 
for  her  is  five  thousand  dollars  cash,'  he  says,  'in 
a  certified  check,'  he  says,  'before  the  feller  goes 
under  the  Chuppah  at  all.'" 

"With  a  feller  like  B.  Maslik,"  Polatkin  com- 
mented, "it  ain't  necessary  for  him  to  talk  that  way, 
Rashkind,  because  if  he  wants  to  get  an  up-to-date 
business  man  for  his  daughter,  understand  me,  he 
couldn't  expect  the  feller  is  going  to  take  chances 
on  an  uncertified  check  oder  a  promissory  note." 

"That's  all  right,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  Rashkind  said. 
"B.  Maslik's  promissory  note  is  just  so  good  as  his 
certified  check,  Mr.  Polatkin.  With  that  feller  I 
wouldn't  want  his  promissory  note  even.  His  word 
in  the  presence  of  a  couple  of  bright,  level-headed 
witnesses,  which  a  lawyer  couldn't  rattle  'em  on 
the  stand,  verstehst  du,  would  be  good  enough  for 
me,  Mr.  Polatkin.  B.  Maslik,  y'understand,  is 
absolutely  good  like  diamonds,  Mr.  Polatkin." 

"All  right,"  Polatkin  said.  "I'll  speak  to  Elkan 
about  it.  He'll  be  back  from  the  road  Saturday." 

"  Speak  nothing,"  Rashkind  cried  excitedly.  "  Sat- 
urday would  be  too  late.  Everybody  is  working 
on  this  here  proposition,  Mr.  Polatkin.  Because 
the  way  property  is  so  dead  nowadays  all  the  real 
estaters  tries  to  be  a  Shadchen,  understand  me;  so 
if  you  wouldn't  want  Miss  Maslik  to  slip  through 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER        83 

Elkan's  fingers,  write  him  this  afternoon  yet.  I 
got  a  fountain  pen  right  here." 

As  he  spoke  he  produced  a  fountain  pen  of  formid- 
able dimensions  and  handed  it  to  Polatkin. 

"I'll  take  the  letter  along  with  me  and  mail  it," 
Rashkind  continued  as  Marcus  made  a  preliminary 
flourish. 

"Tell  him,"  Rashkind  went  on,  "that  the  girl 
is  something  which  you  could  really  call  beautiful." 

"I  wouldn't  tell  him  nothing  of  the  sort,"  Polatkin 
said,  "because,  in  the  first  place,  what  for  a  Schreiber 
you  think  I  am  anyway?  And,  in  the  second  place, 
Rashkind,  Elkan  is  so  full  of  business,  understand 
me,  if  I  would  write  him  to  come  home  on  account 
this  here  Miss  Maslik  is  such  a  good-looker  he 
wouldn't  come  at  all." 

Rashkind  shrugged. 

"Go  ahead,"  he  said.     "Do  it  your  own  way." 

For  more  than  five  minutes  Polatkin  indited  his 
message  to  Elkan  and  at  last  he  inclosed  it  in  an 
envelope. 

"How  would  you  spell  Bridgetown?"  he  asked. 

"Which  Bridgetown?"  Rashkind  inquired  — 
"Bridgetown,  Pennsylvania,  oder  Bridgetown,  Illi- 
nois?" 

"What  difference  does  that  make?"  Polatkin 
demanded. 

"About  the  spelling  it  don't  make  no  difference," 
Rashkind  replied.  "Bridgetown  is  spelt  B-r-i-d-g-e- 


84  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

t-a-u-n,  all  the  world  over;  aber  if  it's  Bridgetown, 
Pennsylvania,  that's  a  very  funny  quincidence,  on 
account  I  am  just  now  talking  to  a  feller  which 
formerly  keeps  a  store  there  by  the  name  Flixman." 

"Do  you  mean  Julius  Flixman?"  Marcus  asked 
as  he  licked  the  envelope. 

"That's  the  feller,"  Rashkind  said  with  a  sigh 
as  he  pocketed  the  letter  to  Elkan.  "It's  a  funny 
world,  Mr.  Polatkin.  Him  and  me  comes  over 
together  in  one  steamer  yet,  thirty  years  ago;  and 
to-day  if  that  feller's  worth  a  cent  he's  worth  fifty 
thousand  dollars." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Marcus  agreed;  "and  Gott  soil 
huten  you  and  I  should  got  what  he's  got  it.  He 
could  drop  down  in  the  streets  any  moment,  Rash- 
kind."  Rashkind  nodded  as  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

"In  a  way,  it's  his  own  fault,"  he  said,  "because 
a  feller  which  he  could  afford  to  ride  round  in  taxi- 
cabs  yet  ain't  got  no  business  walking  the  streets 
in  his  condition.  I  told  him  this  morning:  ' Julius,' 
I  says,  'if  I  was  one  of  your  heirs,'  I  says  to  him, 
'I  wouldn't  want  nothing  better  as  to  see  you  hang- 
ing round  the  real-estate  exchange,  looking  the  way 
you  look!'  And  he  says  to  me:  'Rashkind,'  he 
says,  'there  is  a  whole  lot  worser  things  I  could 
wish  myself  as  you  should  be  my  heir,'  he  says. 
'On  account,'  he  says,  'if  a  Schlemiel  like  you  would 
got  a  relation  which  is  going  to  leave  you  money, 
Rashkind,'  he  says,  'it  would  be  just  your  luck  that 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER        85 

the  relation  dies  one  day  after  you  do,  even  if  you 
would  live  to  be  a  hundred."' 

He  walked  toward  the  door  and  paused  on  the 
threshold. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  he  concluded,  "you  could 
take  it  from  me,  if  that  feller's  got  heart  disease, 
Mr.  Polatkin,  it  ain't  from  overworking  it.  So  I 
would  ring  you  up  to-morrow  afternoon  three  o'clock 
and  see  if  Elkan's  come  yet." 

"I'm  agreeable,"  Polatkin  declared;  "only  one 
thing  I  got  to  ask  you :  you  should  keep  your  mouth 
shut  to  my  partner,  on  account  if  he  hears  it  that  I  am 
bringing  back  Elkan  from  the  road  just  for  this  here 
Miss  Maslik,  understand  me,  he  would  never  let 
me  hear  the  end  of  it." 

Rashkind  made  a  reassuring  gesture  with  his 
right  arm  after  the  fashion  of  a  swimmer  who 
employs  the  overhand  stroke. 

"What  have  I  got  to  do  with  your  partner?"  he 
said  as  he  started  for  the  elevator.  "If  I  meet  him 
in  the  place,  I  am  selling  buttons  and  you  don't 
want  to  buy  none.  Ain't  it?" 

Polatkin  nodded  and  turned  to  the  examination 
of  a  pile  of  monthly  statements  by  way  of  dismissing 
the  marriage  broker.  Moreover,  he  felt  impelled 
to  devise  some  excuse  for  sending  for  Elkan,  so 
that  he  might  have  it  pat  upon  the  return  from 
lunch  of  his  partner,  Philip  Scheikowitz,  who 
at  that  precise  moment  was  seated  in  the  rear 


86  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

of  Wasserbauer's  cafe,  by  the  side  of  Charles 
Fischko. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,"  Fischko  said,  "if  you 
would  really  got  the  feller's  interest  in  heart,  under- 
stand me,  you  wouldn't  wait  till  Saturday  at  all. 
Write  him  to-day  yet,  because  this  proposition  is 
something  which  you  could  really  call  remarkable, 
on  account  most  girls  which  they  got  five  thousand 
dollars  dowries,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  ain't  got  five- 
thousand-dollar  faces;  aber  this  here  Miss  Maslik 
is  something  which  when  you  are  paying  seventy-five 
cents  a  seat  on  theaytre,  understand  me,  you  don't 
see  such  an  elegant-looking  Gesicht.  She's  a  regular 
doll,  Mr.  Scheikowitz!" 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Scheikowitz  agreed;  "that's  the 
way  it  is  with  them  dolls,  Fischko  —  takes  a  fortune 
already  to  dress  'em." 

Fischko  flapped  the  air  indignantly  with  both 
hands. 

"That's  where  you  are  making  a  big  mistake," 
he  declared.  "The  Masliks  got  living  in  the  house 
with  'em  a  girl  which  for  years  already  she  makes 
all  Miss  Maslik's  dresses  and  Mrs.  Maslik's  also. 
B.  Maslik  told  me  so  himself,  Mr.  Scheikowitz. 
He  says  to  me:  *  Fischko,'  he  says,  'my  Birdie 
is  a  girl  which  she  ain't  accustomed  she  should  got 
a  lot  of  money  spent  on  her,'  he  says;  'the  five 
thousand  dollars  is  practically  net,'  he  says,  £on 
account  his  expenses  would  be  small." 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER        87 

"Is  she  a  good  cook?"  Scheikowitz  asked. 

"A  good  cook!"  Fischko  cried.  "Listen  here  to 
me,  Mr.  Scheikowitz.  You  know  that  a  Shadchen 
eats  sometimes  in  pretty  swell  houses.  Ain't  it?" 

Scheikowitz  nodded. 

"Well,  I  am  telling  you,  Mr.  Sheikowitz,  so  sure 
as  I  am  sitting  here,  that  I  got  in  B.  Maslik's  last 
Tuesday  a  week  ago  already  a  piece  of  plain  everyday 
gefullte  Hechte,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  which  honestly,  if 
you  would  go  to  Delmonico's  oder  the  Waldorfer, 
understand  me,  you  could  pay  as  high  as  fifty 
cents  for  it,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  and  it  wouldn't  be  —  I 
am  not  saying  better  —  but  so  good  even  as  that 
there  gefullte  Hechte  which  I  got  it  by  B.  Maslik." 

Scheikowitz  nodded  again. 

"All  right,  Fischko,"  he  said,  "I  will  write  the 
boy  so  soon  as  I  get  back  to  the  office  yet;  but  one 
thing  I  must  beg  of  you:  don't  say  a  word  about 
this  to  my  partner,  y'understand,  because  if  he 
would  hear  that  I  am  bringing  home  Elkan  from 
the  road  just  on  account  of  this  Shidduch  you  are 
proposing,  understand  me,  he  would  make  my  life 
miserable." 

Fischko  shrugged  his  shoulders  until  his  head 
nearly  disappeared  into  his  chest. 

"What  would  I  talk  to  your  partner  for,  Mr. 
Scheikowitz?"  he  said.  "I  am  looking  to  you  in 
this  here  affair;  so  I  would  stop  round  the  day 
after  to-morrow  afternoon,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  and  if 


88  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

your  partner  asks  me  something  a  question,  I  would 
tell  him  I  am  selling  thread  oder  buttons." 

"Make  it  buttons,"  Scheikowitz  commented,  as 
he  rose  to  his  feet;  "because  we  never  buy  buttons 
from  nobody  but  the  Prudential  Button  Company." 

On  his  way  back  to  his  office  Scheikowitz  pondered 
a  variety  of  reasons  for  writing  Elkan  to  return,  and 
he  had  tentatively  adopted  the  most  extravagant 
one  when,  within  a  hundred  feet  of  his  business 
premises,  he  encountered  no  less  a  personage  than 
Julius  Flixman. 

"JFie  geht's,  Mr.  Flixman?"  he  cried.  "What 
brings  you  to  New  York?" 

Flixman  saluted  Philip  with  a  limp  handclasp. 

"I  am  living  here  now,"  he  said.  "I  am  giving 
up  my  store  in  Bridgetown  schon  six  months  ago 
already,  on  account  I  enjoyed  such  poor  health 
there.  So  I  sold  out  to  a  young  feller  by  the  name 
Max  Kapfer,  which  was  for  years  working  by  Pas- 
chalson,  of  Sarahcuse;  and  I  am  living  here,  as  I 
told  you." 

"With  relations  maybe?"  Philip  asked. 

"Yow,  relations!"  Flixman  replied.  "I  used  to 
got  one  sister  living  in  Bessarabia,  Mr.  Scheikowitz, 
and  I  ain't  heard  from  her  in  more  as  thirty  years, 
and  I  guess  she  is  dead  all  right  by  this  time.  I  am 
living  at  a  hotel  which  I  could  assure  you  the  prices 
they  soak  me  is  something  terrible." 

"And  what  are  you  doing  round  this  neighborhood, 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER         89 

Mr.  Flixman?"  Philip  continued  by  way  of  making 
conversation. 

"I  was  just  over  to  see  a  lawyer  over  on  Center 
Street,"  Flixman  replied. 

"A  lawyer  on  Center  Street!"  Philip  exclaimed. 
"A  rich  man  like  you  should  got  a  lawyer  on  Wall 
Street,  Mr.  Flixman.  Henry  D.  Feldman  is  our 
lawyer,  and " 

"Don't  mention  that  sucker  to  me!"  Flixman 
interrupted.  " Actually  the  feller  is  got  the  nerve 
to  ask  me  a  hundred  dollars  for  drawing  a  will,  and 
this  here  feller  on  Center  Street  wants  only  fifty. 
I  bet  yer  if  I  would  go  round  there  to-morrow  or  the 
next  day  he  takes  twenty-five  even." 

"But  a  will  is  something  which  is  really  important, 
Mr.  Flixman." 

"Not  to  me  it  ain't,  Scheikowitz,  because,  while 
I  couldn't  take  my  money  with  me,  Scheikowitz,  I 
ain't  got  no  one  to  leave  it  to;  so,  if  I  wouldn't  make 
a  will  it  goes  to  the  state  —  ain't  it?" 

"Maybe,"  Philip  commented. 

"So  I  am  leaving  it  to  a  Talmud  Torah  School, 
which  it  certainly  don't  do  no  harm  that  all  them 
young  loafers  over  on  the  East  Side  should  learn 
a  little  Loschen  Hakodesch.  Ain't  it?" 

"Sure  not,"  Philip  said. 

"Well,"  Flixman  concluded  as  he  took  a  firmer 
grasp  on  his  cane  preparatory  to  departing,  "that's 
the  way  it  goes.  If  I  would  got  children  to  leave 


go  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

my  money  to  I  would  say:  'Yes;  give  the  lawyer 
a  hundred  dollars.'  But  for  a  Talmud  Torah  School 
I  would  see  'em  all  dead  first  before  I  would  pay 
fifty  even." 

He  nodded  savagely  in  farewell  and  shuffled  off 
down  the  street,  while  Philip  made  his  way  toward 
the  factory,  with  his  half-formed  excuse  to  his 
partner  now  entirely  forgotten. 

He  tried  in  vain  to  recall  it  when  he  entered  his 
office  a  few  minutes  later,  but  the  sight  of  his  partner 
spurred  him  to  action  and  immediately  he  devised 
a  new  and  better  plan. 

"Marcus,"  he  said,  "write  Elkan  at  once  he  should 
come  back  to  the  store.  I  just  seen  Flixman  on  the 
street  and  he  tells  me  he's  got  a  young  feller  by  the 
name  Karpfer  oder  Kapfer  now  running  his  store; 
and,"  he  continued  in  an  access  of  inspiration, 
"the  stock  is  awful  run  down  there;  so,  if  Elkan 
goes  right  back  to  Bridgetown  with  a  line  of  low- 
priced  goods  he  could  do  a  big  business  with  Kapfer." 

Polatkin  had  long  since  concocted  what  he  had 
conceived  to  be  a  perfectly  good  excuse  for  his  letter, 
and  he  had  intended  to  lend  it  color  by  prefacing  it 
with  an  abusive  dissertation  on  "Wasting  the  Whole 
Afternoon  over  Lunch";  but  Scheikowitz'  greeting 
completely  disarmed  him.  His  jaw  dropped  and 
he  gazed  stupidly  at  his  partner. 

"What's  the  matter?"  Scheikowitz  cried.  "Is 
it  so  strange  we  should  bring  Elkan  back  here  for 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER        91 

the  ohance  of  doing  some  more  business?  Three  dol- 
lars carfare  between  here  and  Bridgetown  wouldn't 
make  or  break  us,  Polatkin." 

"  Sure !  Sure ! "  Marcus  said  at  last.  "  I  would  — 
now  —  write  him  as  soon  as  I  get  back  from  lunch." 

"Write  him  right  away!"  Scheikowitz  insisted; 
and,  though  Marcus  had  breakfasted  before  seven 
that  morning  and  it  was  then  half-past  two,  he 
turned  to  his  desk  without  further  parley.  There, 
for  the  second  time  that  day,  he  penned  a  letter  to 
Elkan;  and,  after  exhibiting  it  to  his  partner,  he 
inclosed  it  in  an  addressed  envelope.  Two  minutes 
later  he  paused  in  front  of  Wasserbauer's  cafe  and, 
taking  the  missive  from  his  pocket,  tore  it  into  small 
pieces  and  cast  it  into  the  gutter. 

I  suppose,  Elkan,  you  are  wondering  why  we  wrote 
you  to  come  home  from  Bridgetown  when  you  would 
be  back  on  Saturday  anyway,"  Scheikowitz  began 
as  Elkan  laid  down  his  suitcase  in  the  firm's  office 
the  following  afternoon. 

"Naturally,"  Elkan  replied.  "I  had  an  appoint- 
ment for  this  morning  to  see  a  feller  there,  which 
we  could  open  maybe  a  good  account;  a  feller  by 
the  name  Max  Kapfer." 

"Max  Kapfer?"  Polatkin  and  Scheikowitz  ex- 
claimed with  one  voice. 

"That's  what  I  said,"  Elkan  repeated.  "And  in 
order  I  shouldn't  lose  the  chance  I  got  him  to  promise 


92  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

he  would  come  down  here  this  afternoon  yet  on  a 
late  train  and  we  would  pay  his  expenses." 

"Do  you  mean  Max  Kapfer,  the  feller  which  took 
over  Flixman's  store?"  Poltakin  asked. 

"There's  only  one  Max  Kapfer  in  Bridgetown," 
Elkan  replied,  and  Polatkin  immediately  assumed 
a  pose  of  righteous  indignation. 

"That's  from  yours  an  idee,  Scheikowitz,"  he 
said.  "Not  only  you  make  the  boy  trouble  to  come 
back  to  the  store,  but  we  also  got  to  give  this  feller 
Kapfer  his  expenses  yet." 

"What  are  you  kicking  about?"  Scheikowitz 
demanded.  "You  seemed  agreeable  to  the  propo- 
sition yesterday." 

"I  got  to  seem  agreeable,"  Polatkin  retorted  as 
he  started  for  the  door  of  the  factory,  "otherwise 
it  would  be  nothing  but  fight,  fight,  fight  mit  you, 
day  in,  day  out." 

He  paused  at  the  entrance  and  winked  solemnly 
at  Elkan. 

"I  am  sick  and  tired  of  it,"  he  concluded  as  he 
supplemented  the  wink  with  a  significant  frown,  and 
when  he  passed  into  the  factory  Elkan  followed 
him. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  Elkan  asked  anxiously. 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you  a  few  words  something," 
Polatkin  began;  but  before  he  could  continue  Schei- 
kowitz entered  the  factory. 

"Did  you  got  your  lunch  on  the  train,  Elkan?" 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER        93 

Scheikowitz  said;  "because,  if  not,  come  on  out 
and  we'll  have  a  cup  coffee  together." 

"Leave  the  boy  alone,  can't  you?"  Polatkin  ex- 
claimed. 

"I'll  go  right  out  with  you,  Mr.  Scheikowitz," 
Elkan  said  as  he  edged  away  to  the  rear  of  the 
factory.  "Go  and  put  on  your  hat  and  I'll  be  with 
you  in  a  minute." 

When  Scheikowitz  had  reentered  the  office  Elkan 
turned  to  Marcus  Polatkin. 

"You  ain't  scrapping  again,"  he  said,  "are  you?" 

"Oser  a  Stuck,'9  Polatkin  answered.  "We  are 
friendly  like  lambs;  but  listen  here  to  me,  Elkan. 
I  ain't  got  no  time  before  he'll  be  back  again,  so 
I'll  tell  you.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  me  that 
wrote  you  to  come  back,  really.  I  got  an  elegant 
Shidduch  for  you." 

"Shidduch'"  Elkan  exclaimed.     "For  me?" 

"Sure,"  Polatkin  whispered.  "A  fine-looking  girl 
by  the  name  Birdie  Maslik,  mit  five  thousand  dollars. 
Don't  say  nothing  to  Scheikowitz  about  it." 

"But,"  Elkan  said,  "I  ain't  looking  for  no  Shid- 
duch." 

"S-ssh!"  Polatkin  hissed.  "Her  father  is  B. 
Maslik,  the  £  Pants  King.'  To-morrow  night  you 
are  going  up  to  see  her  mit  Rashkind,  the  Shadchen" 

"What  the  devil  you  are  talking  about?"  Elkan 
asked. 

"Not  a  word,"  Polatkin  whispered  out  of  one 


94  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

corner  of  his  mouth.  "Here  comes  Scheikowitz  — 
and  remember,  don't  say  nothing  to  him  about  it. 
Y'understand?" 

Elkan  nodded  reluctantly  as  Scheikowitz  reap- 
peared from  the  office. 

"Nu,  Elkan,"  Scheikowitz  demanded,  "are  you 
coming?" 

"Right  away,"  Elkan  said,  and  together  they 
proceeded  downstairs. 

"Well,  Elkan,"  Scheikowitz  began  when  they 
reached  the  sidewalk,  "you  must  think  we  was 
crazy  to  send  for  you  just  on  account  of  this  here 
Kapfer.  Ain't  it?" 

Elkan  shrugged  in  reply. 

"But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,"  Scheikowitz  continued, 
"Kapfer  ain't  got  no  more  to  do  with  it  than 
Eha  Hanove;  and,  even  though  Polatkin  would 
be  such  a  crank  that  I  was  afraid  for  my  life 
to  suggest  a  thing,  it  was  my  idee  you  should  come 
home,  Elkan,  because  in  a  case  like  this  delays  is 
dangerous." 

"Mr.  Scheikowitz,"  Elkan  pleaded,  "do  me  the 
favour  and  don't  go  beating  bushes  round.  What 
are  you  trying  to  drive  into?" 

"I  am  trying  to  drive  into  this,  Elkan,"  Scheiko- 
witz replied:  "I  have  got  for  you  an  elegant 
Shidduch." 

"  Shidduch! "  Elkan  exclaimed.  "  For  me  ?  Why, 
Mr.  Scheikowitz,  I  don't  want  no  Shidduch  yet  a 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER        95 

while;  and  anyhow,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  if  I  would 
get  married  I  would  be  my  own  Shadchen" 

"  Schmooes,  Elkan!"  Scheikowitz  exclaimed.  "A 
feller  which  is  his  own  Shadchen  remains  single  all 
his  life  long." 

"That  suits  me  all  right,"  Elkan  commented  as 
they  reached  Wasserbauer's.  "  I  would  remain  single 
undfertig." 

"What  d'ye  mean,  you  would  remain  single?" 
Scheikowitz  cried.  "Is  some  one  willing  to  pay 
you  five  thousand  dollars  you  should  remain  single, 
Elkan?  Oser  a  Stuck,  Elkan;  and,  furthermore,  this 
here  Miss  Birdie  Maslik  is  got  such  a  face,  Elkan, 
which,  honest,  if  she  wouldn't  have  a  cent  to  her 
name,  understand  me,  you  would  say  she  is  beauti- 
ful anyhow." 

"Miss  Birdie  Maslik!"  Elkan  murmured. 

"B.  Maslik's  a  Tochter,"  Scheikowitz  added; 
"and  remember,  Elkan,  don't  breathe  a  word  of  this 
to  Polatkin,  otherwise  he  would  never  get  through 
talking  about  it.  Moreover,  you  will  go  up  to 
Maslik's  house  to-morrow  night  with  Charles  Fischko, 
the  Shadchen:9 

"Now  listen  here  to  me,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,"  Elkan 
protested.  "I  ain't  going  nowheres  with  no  Shad- 
chen —  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

" Aber,  Elkan,"  Scheikowitz  said,  "this  here 
Fischko  ain't  a  Shadchen  exactly.  He's  really  a 
real-estater,  aber  real  estate  is  so  dead  nowadays 


96  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

the  feller  must  got  to  make  a  living  somehow;  so 
it  ain't  like  you  would  be  going  somewheres  mit  a 
Shadchen,  Elkan.  Actually  you  are  going  some- 
wheres mit  a  real-estater.  Ain't  it?" 

"It  don't  make  no  difference,"  Elkan  answered 
stubbornly.  "If  I  would  go  and  see  a  girl  I  would 
go  alone,  otherwise  not  at  all.  So,  if  you  insist  on 
it  I  should  go  and  see  this  here  Miss  Maslik  to- 
morrow night,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  I  would  do  so,  but 
not  with  Rashkind." 

"  Fischko,"  Scheikowitz  interrupted. 

"Fischko  oder  Rashkind,"  Elkan  said  — "that's 
all  there  is  to  it.  And  if  I  would  get  right  back  to 
the  store  I  got  just  time  to  go  up  to  the  Prince 
Clarence  and  meet  Max  Kapfer;  so  you  would  excuse 
me  if  I  skip." 

"Think  it  over  Elkan,"  Scheikowitz  called  after 
him  as  Elkan  left  the  cafe,  and  three  quarters  of  an 
hour  later  he  entered  Polatkin  &  Scheikowitz'  show- 
room accompanied  by  a  fashionably  attired  young 
man. 

"Mr.  Polatkin,"  Elkan  said,  "shake  hands  with 
Mr.  Kapfer." 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Kapfer?"  Polatkin  cried. 
"This  here  is  my  partner,  Philip  Scheikowitz." 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Scheikowitz?"  Kapfer  said. 
"You  are  very  conveniently  located  here.  Right 
in  the  heart  of  things,  so  to  speak.  I  see  across  the 
street  is  Bleimauer  &  Gittelmann.  Them  people 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER        97 

was  in  to  see  me  last  week  already  and  offered  me 
a  big  bargain  in  velvet  suits,  but  I  was  all  stocked 
up  along  that  line  so  I  didn't  hand  them  no  orders." 

"Velvet  suits  ain't  our  specialty  at  all,"  Polatkin 
replied;  "but  I  bet  yer  if  we  never  seen  a  velvet 
suit  in  all  our  lives,  Mr.  Kapfer,  we  could  work 
you  up  a  line  of  velvet  suits  which  would  make  them 
velvet  suits  of  Bleimauer  &  Gittelmann  look  like 
a  bundle  of  rags." 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  Kapfer  rejoined;  "but,  as  I 
said  before,  velvet  suits  I  am  all  stocked  up  in,  as 
I  couldn't  afford  to  carry  very  many  of  'em." 

"That's  all  right,"  Polatkin  said  as  he  led  the  way 
to  the  showroom.  "We  got  a  line  of  garments  here, 
Mr.  Kapfer,  which  includes  all  prices  and  styles." 
He  handed  Max  a  large  mild  cigar  as  he  spoke. 
"So  let's  see  if  we  couldn't  suit  you,"  he  concluded. 

For  more  than  two  hours  Max  Kapfer  examined 
Polatkin  &  Scheikowitz'  sample  line  and  made  so 
judicious  a  selection  of  moderate-priced  garments 
that  Polatkin  could  not  forbear  expressing  his 
admiration,  albeit  the  total  amount  of  the  purchase 
was  not  large. 

"You  certainly  got  the  right  buying  idee,  Mr 
Kapfer,"  he  said.  "Them  styles  is  really  the  best 
value  we  got." 

"I  know  it,"  Kapfer  agreed.  "I  was  ten  years 
with  Paschalson,  of  Sarahcuse,  Mr.  Polatkin,  and 
what  I  don't  know  about  a  popular-price  line 


98  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

of  ladies'  ready-to-wear  garments,  underwear  and 
millinery,  Paschalson  couldn't  learn  me.  But  that 
ain't  what  I'm  after,  Mr.  Polatkin.  I'd  like  to 
do  some  high-price  business  too.  If  I  had  the 
capital  I  would  improve  my  store  building  and  put 
in  new  fixtures,  understand  me,  and  I  could  increase 
my  business  seventy-five  per  cent  and  carry  a  better 
class  of  goods  too." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Polatkin  said  as  they  returned 
to  the  office.  "Everybody  needs  more  capital,  Mr. 
Kapfer.  We  ourselves  could  do  with  a  few  thousand 
dollars  more." 

He  looked  significantly  at  Elkan,  who  colored 
slightly  as  he  recognized  the  allusion. 

"I  bet  yer,"  Scheikowitz  added  fervently.  "Five 
thousand  dollars  would  be  welcome  to  us  also." 
He  nodded  almost  imperceptibly  at  Elkan,  who 
forthwith  broke  into  a  gentle  perspiration. 

"Five  thousand  was  just  the  figure  I  was  thinking 
of  myself,"  Kapfer  said.  "With  five  thousand 
dollars  I  could  do  wonders  in  Bridgetown,  Mr. 
Scheikowitz." 

"I'm  surprised  Flixman  don't  help  you  out  a  bit," 
Elkan  suggested  by  way  of  changing  the  subject, 
and  Kapfer  emitted  a  mirthless  laugh. 

"That  bloodsucker!"  he  said.  "What,  when  I 
bought  his  store,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  he  took  from  me 
in  part  payment  notes  at  two,  four,  and  six  months; 
and,  though  I  got  the  cash  ready  to  pay  him  the 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER        99 

last  note,  which  it  falls  due  this  week  already,  I 
asked  him  he  should  give  me  two  months  an  exten- 
sion, on  account  I  want  to  put  in  a  few  fixtures  on 
the  second  floor.  Do  you  think  that  feller  would 
do  it?  He's  got  a  heart  like  a  rock,  Mr.  Polatkin; 
and  any  one  which  could  get  from  him  his  money 
must  got  to  blast  it  out  of  him  with  dynamite  yet." 

Polatkin  nodded  solemnly. 

"You  couldn't  tell  me  nothing  about  Flixman," 
he  said  as  he  offered  Kapfer  a  consolatory  cigar. 
"It's  wasting  your  lungs  to  talk  about  such  a  feller 
at  all;  so  let's  go  ahead  and  finish  up  this  order, 
Mr.  Kapfer,  and  afterward  Elkan  would  go  uptown 
with  you."  He  motioned  Kapfer  to  a  seat  and  then 
looked  at  his  watch.  "I  didn't  got  no  idee  it  was 
so  late,"  he  said.  "  Scheikowitz,  do  me  the  favor 
and  go  over  Mr.  Kapfer's  order  with  him  while  I 
give  a  look  outside  and  see  what's  doing  in  the  shop." 

As  he  walked  toward  the  door  he  jerked  his  head 
sideways  at  Elkan,  who  a  moment  later  followed 
him  into  the  factory. 

"Listen,  Elkan,"  he  began.  "While  you  and 
Scheikowitz  was  out  for  your  coffee,  Rashkind  rings 
me  up  and  says  you  should  meet  him  on  the  corner 
of  One  Hundred  and  Twentieth  Street  and  Lenox 
Avenue  to-night  —  not  to-morrow  night  —  at  eight 
o'clock  sure." 

"But  Kapfer  ain't  going  back  to  Bridgetown 
to-night,"  Elkan  protested.  "He  told  me  so  him- 


ioo  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

self  on  account  he  is  got  still  to  buy  underwear, 
millinery  and  shoes." 

"What  is  that  our  business?"  Polatkin  asked. 
"He's  already  bought  from  us  all  he's  going  to; 
so,  if  he  stays  here,  let  them  underwear  and  millinery 
people  entertain  him.  Blow  him  to  dinner  and  that 
would  be  plenty." 

Once  more  Elkan  shrugged  despairingly. 

"You  didn't  say  nothing  to  Scheikowitz  about  it, 
did  you?"  Polatkin  inquired. 

"Sure  I  didn't  say  nothing  to  him  about  it," 
Elkan  said;  "because " 

"Elkan,"  Scheikowitz  called  from  the  office, 
"Mr.  Kapfer  is  waiting  for  you." 

Elkan  had  been  about  to  disclose  the  conversa- 
tion between  himself  and  Scheikowitz  at  Wasser- 
bauer's  that  afternoon,  but  Marcus,  at  the  appear- 
ance of  his  partner,  turned  abruptly  and  walked 
into  the  cutting  room;  and  thus,  when  Elkan  ac- 
companied Max  Kapfer  uptown  that  evening, 
his  manner  was  so  preoccupied  by  reason  of  his 
dilemma  that  Kapfer  was  constrained  to  comment 
on  it. 

"What's  worrying  you,  Lubliner?"  he  asked  as 
they  seated  themselves  in  the  cafe  of  the  Prince 
Clarence.  "You  look  like  you  was  figuring  out  the 
interest  on  the  money  you  owe." 

"I'll   tell   you   the   truth,   Mr.    Kapfer,"   Elkan 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUJBLINER       101 

began,  "I  would  like  to  ask  you  an  advice  about 
something." 

"Go  as  far  as  you  like,"  Kapfer  replied.  "It 
don't  make  no  difference  if  a  feller  would  be  broke 
oder  in  jail,  he  could  always  give  somebody  advice." 

"Well,  it's  like  this,"  Elkan  said,  and  forthwith 
he  unfolded  the  circumstances  attending  his  return 
from  Bridgetown. 

"Nu!"  Kapfer  commented  when  Elkan  concluded 
his  narrative.  "What  is  that  for  something  to 
worry  about?" 

"But  the  idee  of  the  thing  is  wrong,"  Elkan 
protested.  "In  the  first  place,  I  got  lots  of  time 
to  get  married,  on  account  I  am  only  twenty-one, 
Mr.  Kapfer;  and  though  a  feller  couldn't  start  in 
too  early  in  business,  Mr.  Kapfer,  getting  married 
is  something  else  again.  To  my  mind  a  feller  should 
be  anyhow  twenty-five  before  he  jumps  right  in  and 
gets  married." 

"With  some  people,  yes,  and  others,  no,"  Kapfer 
rejoined. 

"And  in  the  second  place,"  Elkan  went  on,  "I 
don't  like  this  here  Shadchen  business.  We  are 
living  in  America,  not  Russland;  and  in  America 
if  a  feller  gets  married  he  don't  need  no  help  from 
a  Shadchen,  Mr.  Kapfer." 

"No,"  Kapfer  said,  "he  don't  need  no  help, 
Lubliner;  but,  just  the  same,  if  some  one  would  come 
to  me  any  time  these  five  years  and  says  to  me, 


102  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

here  is  something  a  nice  girl,  understand  me,  with 
five  thousand  dollars,  y'understand,  I  would  have 
been  married  schon  long  since  already."  He  cleared 
his  throat  judicially  and  sat  back  in  his  chair  until 
it  rested  against  the  wall.  "The  fact  is,  Lubliner," 
he  said,  "you  are  acting  like  a  fool.  What  harm 
would  it  do  supposing  you  would  go  up  there  to- 
night with  this  here  Rashkind?" 

"What,  and  go  there  to-morrow  night  with 
Fischko!"  Elkan  exclaimed.  "Besides,  if  I  would 
go  up  there  to-night  with  Rashkind  and  the  deal 
is  closed,  understand  me,  might  Fischko  would  sue 
Mr.  Scheikowitz  in  the  court  yet." 

"Not  at  all,"  Kapfer  declared.  " Fischko  couldn't 
sue  nobody  but  B.  Maslik;  so  never  mind  waiting 
here  for  dinner.  Hustle  uptown  and  keep  your 
date  with  Rashkind."  He  shook  Elkan  by  the  hand. 
"Good  luck  to  you,  Lubliner,"  he  concluded  heartily; 
"and  if  you  got  the  time  stop  in  on  your  way  down 
to-morrow  morning  and  let  me  know  how  you  come 
out." 

When  Elkan  Lubliner  arrived  at  the  corner  of 
One  Hundred  and  Twentieth  Street  and  Lenox 
Avenue  that  evening,  it  might  well  be  supposed  that 
he  would  have  difficulty  in  recognizing  Mr.  Rash- 
kind,  since  neither  he  nor  Rashkind  had  any  pre- 
vious acquaintance.  However,  he  accosted  without 
hesitation  a  short,  stout  person  arrayed  in  a  wrinkled 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      103 

frock  coat  and  wearing  the  white  tie  and  gold  spec- 
tacles that  invariably  garb  the  members  of  such 
quasi-clerical  professions  as  a  Shadchen,  a  sexton  or 
the  collector  of  subscriptions  for -a  charitable  insti- 
tution. Indeed,  as  Rashkind  combined  all  three 
of  these  callings  with  the  occupation  of  a  real-estate 
broker,  he  also  sported  a  high  silk  hat  of  uncertain 
vintage  and  a  watch-chain  bearing  a  Masonic 
emblem  approximating  in  weight  and  size  a  tailor's 
goose. 

"This  is  Mr.  Rashkind,  ain't  it?"  Elkan  asked, 
and  Rashkind  bowed  solemnly. 

"My  name  is  Mr.  Lubliner,"  Elkan  continued, 
"and  Mr.  Polatkin  says  you  would  be  here  at  eight." 

For  answer  Mr.  Rushkind  drew  from  his  waistcoat 
pocket  what  appeared  to  be  a  six-ounce  boxing 
glove,  but  which  subsequently  proved  to  be  the 
chamois  covering  of  his  gold  watch,  the  gift  of 
Rambam  Lodge,  No.  142,  I.  O.  M.  A.  This  Mr. 
Rashkind  consulted  with  knit  brows. 

"That's  right,"  he  said,  returning  the  watch 
and  its  covering  to  his  pocket  —  "eight  o'clock 
to  the  minute;  so  I  guess  we  would  just  so  well  go 
round  to  B.  Maslik's  house  if  you  ain't  got  no 
objections." 

"I'm  agreeable,"  Elkan  said;  "but,  before  we 
start,  you  should  please  be  so  good  and  tell  me  what 
I  must  got  to  do." 

"What  you  must  got  to  do?"  Rashkind  exclaimed. 


104  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"A  question!  You  mustn't  got  to  do  nothing.  Act 
natural  and  leave  the  rest  to  me." 

"But,"  Elkan  insisted  as  they  proceeded  down 
Lenox  Avenue,  "shouldn't  I  say  something  to  the 
girl?" 

"Sure,  you  should  say  something  to  the  girl," 
Rashkind  replied;  "but,  if  you  couldn't  find  some- 
thing to  say  to  a  girl  like  Miss  Birdie  Maslik,  all 
I  could  tell  you  is  you're  a  bigger  Schlemiel  than  you 
look." 

With  this  encouraging  ultimatum,  Mr.  Rashkind 
entered  the  portals  of  a  hallway  that  glittered  with 
lacquered  bronze  and  plaster  porphyry,  and  before 
Elkan  had  time  to  ask  any  more  questions  he  found 
himself  seated  with  Mr.  Rashkind  in  the  front 
parlour  of  a  large  apartment  on  the  seventh  floor. 

"Mr.  Maslik  says  you  should  be  so  good  and  step 
into  the  dining  room,"  the  maid  said  to  Mr.  Rash- 
kind.  Forthwith  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  left  Elkan 
alone  in  the  room,  save  for  the  presence  of  the  maid, 
who  drew  down  the  shades  and  smiled  encouragingly 
on  Elkan. 

"Ain't  it  a  fine  weather?"  she  asked. 

Elkan  looked  up,  and  he  could  not  resist  smiling 
in  return. 

"Elegant,"  he  replied.  "It  don't  seem  like 
summer  was  ever  going  to  quit." 

"It  couldn't  last  too  long  for  me,"  the  maid 
continued.  "Might  some  people  would  enjoy  cold 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      105 

weather  maybe;  but  when  it  comes  to  going  up  on 
the  roof,  understand  me,  and  hanging  out  a  big 
wash,  the  summer  is  good  enough  for  me." 

Elkan  gazed  for  a  moment  at  her  oval  face,  with 
its  kindly,  intelligent  brown  eyes. 

"You  mean  to  say  you  got  to  do  washing  here?" 
he  asked  in  shocked  accents. 

"Sure  I  do,"  she  replied;  " aber  this  winter  I  am 
going  to  night  school  again  and  next  summer  might 
I  would  get  a  job  as  bookkeeper  maybe." 

"But  why  don't  you  get  a  job  in  a  store  some- 
wheres?"  he  asked. 

"I  see  myself  working  in  a  store  all  day,  standing 
on  my  feet  yet,  and  when  I  get  through  all  my  wages 
goes  for  board!"  she  replied.  "Whereas,  here  I 
got  anyhow  a  good  room  and  board,  and  all  what 
I  earn  I  could  put  away  in  savings  bank.  I  worked 
in  a  store  long  enough,  Mr. " 

"Lubliner,"  Elkan  said. 

" Mr.  Lubliner;  and  I  could  assure  you  I 

would  a  whole  lot  sooner  do  housework,"  she  went 
on.  "Why  should  a  girl  think  it's  a  disgrace  she 
should  do  housework  for  a  living  is  more  as  I  could 
tell  you.  Sooner  or  later  a  girl  gets  married,  and 
then  she  must  got  to  do  her  own  housework." 

"Not  if  her  husband  makes  a  good  living,"  Elkan 
suggested. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  she  rejoined;  "but  how  many 
girls  which  they  are  working  in  stores  gets  not  a 


io6  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

rich  man,  understand  me,  but  a  man  which  is  only 
making,  say,  for  example,  thirty  dollars  a  week. 
The  most  that  a  poor  girl  expects  is  that  she  marries 
a  poor  man,  y'understand,  and  then  they  work 
their  way  up  together." 

Elkan  nodded.  Unconsciously  he  was  indorsing 
not  so  much  the  matter  as  the  manner  of  her  con- 
versation, for  she  spoke  with  the  low  voice  that 
distinguishes  the  Rumanian  from  the  Pole  or  Lithu- 
anian. 

"You  are  coming  from  Rumania,  ain't  it?" 
Elkan  asked. 

"Pretty  near  there,"  the  maid  replied.  "Right 
on  the  border.  I  am  coming  here  an  orphan  five 
years  ago;  and " 

"Nu,  Lubliner,"  cried  a  rasping  voice  from  the 
doorway,  "  we  got  our  appointment  for  nothing  — 
Miss  Maslik  is  sick." 

"That's  too  bad,"  Elkan  said  perfunctorily. 

"Only  a  little  something  she  eats  gives  her  a 
headache,"  Rashkind  went  on.  "We  could  come 
round  the  day  after  to-morrow  night." 

"That's  too  bad  also,"  Elkan  commented,  "on 
account  the  day  after  to-morrow  night  I  got  a  date 
with  a  customer." 

"Well,  anyhow,  B.  Maslik  would  be  in  in  a  minute 
and " 

Elkan  rose  to  his  feet  so  abruptly  that  he  nearly 
sent  his  chair  through  a  cabinet  behind  him. 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      107 

"If  I  want  to  be  here  Friday  night,"  he  said, 
"I  must  see  my  customer  to-night  yet;  so,  young 
lady,  if  you  would  be  so  kind  to  tell  Mr.  Maslik 
I  couldn't  wait,  but  would  be  here  Friday  night 
with  this  here  —  now  —  gentleman.  Come  on,  Rash- 
kind." 

He  started  for  the  hall  door  almost  on  a  run, 
with  Rashkind  gesticulating  excitedly  behind  him; 
but,  before  the  Shadchen  could  even  grasp  his  coat- 
tails  he  had  let  himself  hurriedly  out  and  was  taking 
the  stairs  three  at  a  jump. 

"Hey!"  Rashkind  shouted  as  he  plunged  down 
the  steps  after  Elkan.  "What's  the  matter  with 
you?  Don't  you  want  to  meet  Mr.  Maslik?" 

Elkan  only  hurried  the  faster,  however,  for  in 
the  few  minutes  he  had  been  alone  in  the  room  with 
the  little  brown-eyed  maid  he  had  made  the  dis- 
covery that  marriage  with  the  aid  of  a  Shadchen 
was  impossible  for  him.  Simultaneously  he  con- 
ceived the  notion  that  marriage  without  the  aid  of 
a  Shadchen  might  after  all  be  well  worth  trying; 
and,  as  this  idea  loomed  in  his  mind,  his  pace  slack- 
ened until  the  Shadchen  overtook  him  at  the  corner 
of  One  Hundred  and  Sixteenth  Street. 

"Say,  lookyhere,  Lubliner!"  Rashkind  said. 
"What  is  the  matter  with  you  anyway?" 

Elkan  professed  to  misunderstand  the  question. 

"I've  lost  my  address  book,"  he  said.  "I  had  it 
in  my  hand  when  you  left  me  alone  there  and  I 


io8  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

must  of  forgotten  it;  so  I  guess  I'll  go  back  and  get 
it." 

"All  right,"  Rashkind  replied.     "  I'll  go  with  you." 

Elkan  wheeled  round  and  glared  viciously  at  the 
Shadchen. 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind!"  he  roared. 
"You  get  right  down  them  subway  steps  or  I 
wouldn't  come  up  with  you  Friday  night." 

"But  what  harm "  Rashkind  began,  when 

Elkan  seized  him  by  the  shoulder  and  led  him 
firmly  downstairs  to  the  ticket  office.  There  Elkan 
bought  a  ticket  and,  dropping  it  in  the  chopper's 
box,  he  pushed  Rashkind  on  to  the  platform.  A 
few  minutes  later  a  downtown .  express  bore  the 
Shadchen  away  and  Elkan  ascended  the  stairs  in 
three  tremendous  bounds.  Unwaveringly  he  started 
up  the  street  for  B.  Maslik's  apartment  house, 
where,  by  the  simple  expedient  of  handing  the 
elevator  boy  a  quarter,  he  averted  the  formality 
of  being  announced.  Thus,  when  he  rang  the  door- 
bell of  B.  Maslik's  flat,  though  it  was  opened 
by  the  little  brown-eyed  maid  in  person,  she  had 
discarded  the  white  apron  and  cap  that  she  had 
worn  a  few  minutes  before,  and  her  hair  was  fluffed 
up  in  becoming  disorder. 

"You  was  telling  me  you  are  coming  originally 
from  somewheres  near  Rumania,"  Elkan  began 
without  further  preface,  "and  —  why,  what's  the 
matter?  You've  been  crying?" 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      109 

She  put  her  fingers  to  her  lips  and  closed  the 
door  softly  behind  her.  "They  says  I  didn't  got 
no  business  talking  to  you  at  all,"  she  replied, 
"and  they  called  me  down  something  terrible!" 

Elkan's  eyes  flashed  angrily. 

"Who  calls  you  down?"  he  demanded. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Maslik,"  she  answered;  "and 
they  says  I  ain't  got  no  shame  at  all!" 

She  struggled  bravely  to  retain  her  composure; 
but  just  one  little  half-strangled  sob  escaped  her, 
and  forthwith  Elkan  felt  internally  a  peculiar  sinking 
sensation. 

"What  do  they  mean  you  ain't  got  no  shame?" 
he  protested.  "I  got  a  right  to  talk  to  you  and  you 
got  a  right  to  talk  to  me  — •  ain't  it?" 

She  nodded  and  sobbed  again,  whereat  Elkan 
winced  and  dug  his  nails  into  the  palms  of  his  hands. 

"Listen!"  he  pleaded.  "Don't  worry  yourself 
at  all.  After  this  I  wouldn't  got  no  use  for  them 
people.  I  didn't  come  here  on  my  own  account 
in  the  first  place,  but " 

Here  he  paused. 

"But  what?"  the  little  maid  asked. 

"But  I'm  glad  I  came  now,"  Elkan  went  on 
defiantly,  "and  I  don't  care  who  knows  it.  Wir 
sind  alles  Jehudim,  anyhow,  and  one  is  just  as  good 
as  the  other." 

"Better  even,"  she  said.  "What  was  B.  Maslik 
in  the  old  country?  He  could  oser  sign  his  name 


no  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

when  he  came  here,  while  I  am  anyhow  from  decent, 
respectable  people,  Mr.  Lubliner." 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  Elkan  replied. 

"My  father  was  a  learned  man,  Mr.  Lubliner; 
but  that  don't  save  him.  One  day  he  goes  to 
Kishinef  on  business,  Mr.  Lubliner,  and  — — •" 

Here  her  composure  entirely  forsook  her  and 
she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  wept. 
Elkan  struggled  with  himself  no  longer.  He  took 
the  little  maid  in  his  arms;  and,  as  it  seemed  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  to  do,  she  laid  her 
head  against  his  shoulder  and  had  her  whole  cry  out. 

Elkan  spoke  no  word,  but  patted  her  shoulder 
gently  with  his  right  hand. 

"I  guess  I'm  acting  like  a  baby,  Mr.  Lubliner," 
she  said,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  elapsed. 
To  Elkan  it  seemed  like  an  acquaintance  of  many 
months  as  he  clasped  her  more  closely. 

"My  name  is  Elkan,  Liebchen"  he  said,  "and 
we  would  send  all  the  heavy  washing  out." 

"Well,  Lubliner,"  Kapfer  cried  as  Elkan  came 
into  the  cafe  of  the  Prince  Clarence  the  following 
morning,  "you  didn't  like  her  —  what?" 

"  Didn't  like  her ! "  Elkan  exclaimed.  "  What  d'ye 
mean  I  didn't  like  her?" 

"Why,  the  way  you  look,  I  take  it  you  had  a  pretty 
rotten  time  last  night,"  Kapfer  rejoined. 

"What  are  you  talking  about  —  rotten  time?" 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      in 

Elkan  protested.  "The  only  thing  is  I  feel  so 
happy  I  didn't  sleep  a  wink,  that's  all." 

Kapfer  jumped  to  his  feet  and  slapped  Elkan  on 
the  shoulder. 

"Do  you  mean  you're  engaged!"  he  asked. 

"Sure!  "Elkan  replied. 

"Then  I  congradulate  you  a  thousand  times," 
Kapfer  said  gleefully. 

"Once  is  plenty,"  Elkan  replied. 

"No,  it  ain't,"  Kapfer  rejoined.  "You  should 
got  to  be  congradulated  more  as  you  think,  because 
this  morning  I  am  talking  to  a  feller  in  the  clothing 
business  here  and  he  says  B.  Maslik  is  richer  as 
most  people  believe.  The  feller  says  he  is  easy 
worth  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars." 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?"  Elkan  asked. 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?"  Kapfer  repeated. 
"Why,  it's  got  everything  to  do  with  it,  considering 
you  are  engaged  to  his  only  daughter." 

"I  am  engaged  to  his  only  daughter?  Who  told 
you  that,  Mr.  Kapfer?" 

"Why,  you  did!"  Kapfer  said. 

"  I  never  said  nothing  of  the  kind,"  Elkan  declared, 
"because  J  ain't  engaged  to  Miss  Maslik  at  all; 
in  fact,  I  never  even  seen  her." 

Kapfer  gazed  earnestly  at  Elkan  and  then  sat 
down  suddenly. 

"Say,  lookyhere,  Lubliner,"  he  said.  "Are  you 
crazy  or  am  I?  Last  night  you  says  you  are  going 


ii2  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

up  with  a  Shadchen  to  see  Birdie  Maslik,  and  now 
you  tell  me  you  are  engaged,  but  not  to  Miss  Maslik." 

"That's  right,"  Elkan  replied. 

"Then  who  in  thunder  are  you  engaged  to?" 

"That's  just  the  point,"  Elkan  said,  as  he  passed 
his  hand  through  his  hair.  "I  ain't  slept  a  wink 
all  night  on  account  of  it;  in  fact,  this  morning  I 
wondered  should  I  go  round  there  and  ask  —  and 
then  I  thought  to  myself  I  would  get  from  you  an 
advice  first." 

"Get  from  me  an  advice!"  Kapfer  exclaimed. 
"You  mean  you  are  engaged  to  a  girl  and  you  don't 
know  her  name,  and  so  you  come  down  here  to  ask 
me  an  advice  as  to  how  you  should  find  out  her 
name?" 

Elkan  nodded  sadly  and  leaned  his  elbow  on  the 
table. 

"It's  like  this,"  he  said;  and  for  more  than  half 
an  hour  he  regaled  Kapfer  with  a  story  that,  stripped 
of  descriptive  and  irrelevant  material  concerning 
Elkan's  own  feelings  in  the  matter,  ought  to  have 
taken  only  five  minutes  in  the  telling. 

"And  that's  the  way  it  is,  Mr.  Kapfer,"  Elkan 
concluded.  "I  don't  know  her  name;  but  a  poor 
little  girl  like  her,  which  she  is  so  good  —  and  so  — 
and  so " 

Here  he  became  all  choked  up  and  Kapfer  handed 
him  a  cigar. 

"Don't  go   into   that   again,   Lubliner,"   Kapfer 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      113 

said;  "you  told  me  how  good  she  is  six  times  already. 
The  point  is  you  are  in  a  hole  and  you  want  me  I 
should  help  you  out  —  ain't  it?" 

Elkan  nodded  wearily. 

"Well,  then,  my  advice  to  you  is:  Stiegen" 
Kapfer  continued.  "Don't  say  a  word  about  this 
to  nobody  until  you  would,  anyhow,  find  out  the 
girl's  name." 

"I  wasn't  going  to,"  Elkan  replied;  "but  there's 
something  else,  Mr.  Kapfer.  To-night  I  am  to  meet 
this  here  other  Shadchen  by  the  name  Fischko,  who 
is  going  to  take  me  up  to  Maslik's  house." 

"But  I  thought  Miss  Maslik  was  sick,"  Kapfer 
said. 

"She  was  sick,"  Elkan  answered,  "  but  she  would 
be  better  by  to-night.  So  that's  the  way  it  stands. 
If  I  would  go  downtown  now  and  explain  to  Mr. 
Scheikowitz  that  I  am  not  going  up  there  to-night 

and  that  I  was  there  last  night  —  and "  Here 

Elkan  paused  and  made  an  expressive  gesture  with 
both  hands.  "The  fact  is,"  he  almost  whimpered, 
"the  whole  thing  is  such  a  Mischmasch  I  feel  like  I 
was  going  crazy!" 

Kapfer  leaned  across  the  table  and  patted  him 
consolingly  on  the  arm. 

"Don't  make  yourself  sick  over  it,"  he  advised. 
"Put  it  up  to  Polatkin.  You  don't  got  to  keep 
Scheikowitz's  idee  a  secret  now,  Lubliner,  because 
sooner  or  later  Polatkin  must  got  to  find  it  out. 


ii4  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

So  you  should  let  Polatkin  know  how  you  was  up 
there  last  night,  and  that  Rashkind  wants  you  to 
go  up  there  Friday  night  on  account  Miss  Maslik 
was  sick,  and  leave  it  to  Polatkin  to  flag  Scheikowitz 
and  this  here  Fischko." 

"But "  Elkan  began,  when  the  strange 

expression  of  Kapfer's  face  made  him  pause.  Indeed, 
before  he  could  proceed  further,  Kapfer  jumped 
up  from  his  chair. 

"Cheese  it!"  he  said.     "Here  comes  Polatkin." 

As  he  spoke,  Polatkin  caught  sight  of  them  and 
almost  ran  across  the  room. 

"Elkan!"  he  exclaimed.  "Gotf  sei  Dank  I  found 
you  here." 

"What's  the  matter?"  Elkan  asked. 

Polatkin  drew  forward  a  chair  and  they  all  sat 
down. 

"I  just  had  a  terrible  fuss  with  Scheikowitz," 
he  said.  "This  morning,  when  I  got  downtown, 
I  thought  I  would  tell  him  what  I  brought  you  back 
for;  so  I  says  to  him:  ' Philip,'  I  says,  'I  want  to 
tell  you  something,'  I  says.  'I  got  an  elegant 
Shidduch  for  Elkan.":  He  stopped  and  let  his 
hand  fall  with  a  loud  smack  on  his  thigh.  "Oo-ee!" 
he  exclaimed.  "What  a  row  that  feller  made  it! 
You  would  think,  Elkan,  I  told  him  I  got  a  pistol 
to  shoot  you  with,  the  way  he  acts.  I  didn't  even 
got  the  opportunity  to  tell  him  who  the  Shidduch 
was.  He  tells  me  I  should  mind  my  own  business 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      115 

and  calls  me  such  names  which  honestly  I  wouldn't 
call  a  shipping  clerk  even.  And  what  else  d'ye 
think  he  says?" 

Elkan  and  Kapfer  shook  their  heads. 

"Why,  he  says  that  to-night,  at  eight  o'clock,  he 
himself  is  going  to  have  a  Shadchen  by  the  name 
Fischko  take  you  up  to  see  a  girl  in  Harlem  which 
the  name  he  didn't  tell  me  at  all;  but  he  says  she's 
got  five  thousand  dollars  a  dowry.  Did  he  say  to 
you  anything  about  it,  Elkan?" 

"The  first  I  hear  of  it!"  Elkan  replied  in  husky 
tones  as  he  averted  his  eyes  from  Polatkin.  "Why, 
I  wouldn't  know  the  feller  Fischko  if  he  stood  before 
me  now,  and  he  wouldn't  know  me  neither." 

"Didn't  he  tell  you  her  name?"  Kapfer  asked 
cautiously. 

"No,"  Polatkin  replied,  "because  I  says  right  away 
that  the  girl  I  had  in  mind  would  got  a  dowry  of  five 
thousand  too;  and  then  and  there  Scheikowitz  gets  so 
mad  he  smashes  a  chair  on  us  —  one  of  them  new 
ones  we  just  bought,  Elkan.  So  I  didn't  say  nothing 
more,  but  I  rung  up  Rashkind  right  away  and  asks 
him  how  things  turns  out,  and  he  says  nothing  is 
settled  yet." 

Elkan  nodded  guiltily. 

"So  I  got  an  idee,"  Polatkin  continued.  "I 
thought,  Elkan,  we  would  do  this:  Don't  come 
downtown  to-day  at  all,  and  to-night  I  would  go  up 
and  meet  Fischko  and  tell  him  you  are  practically 


n6  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

engaged  and  the  whole  thing  is  off.  Also  I  would 
schenk  the  feller  a  ten-dollar  bill  he  shouldn't 
bother  us  again." 

Elkan  grasped  the  edge  of  the  table.  He  felt  as 
if  consciousness  were  slipping  away  from  him, 
when  suddenly  Kapfer  emitted  a  loud  exclamation. 

"By  jimmy!"  he  cried.  "I  got  an  idee!  Why 
shouldn't  I  go  up  there  and  meet  this  here  Fischko?" 

"You  go  up  there?"  Polatkin  said. 

"Sure;  why  not?  A  nice  girl  like  Miss  —  what- 
ever her  name  is  —  ain't  too  good  for  me,  Mr. 
Polatkin.  I  got  a  good  business  there  in  Bridge- 
town, and " 

"But  I  don't  know  what  for  a  girl  she  is  at  all," 
Polatkin  protested. 

"She's  got  anyhow  five  thousand  dollars,"  Kapfer 
retorted,  "and  when  a  girl's  got  five  thousand  dollars, 
Mr.  Polatkin,  beauty  ain't  even  skin-deep." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Polatkin  agreed;  "but  so  soon 
as  you  see  Fischko  and  tell  him  you  ain't  Elkan 
Lubliner  he  would  refuse  to  take  you  round  to  see 
the  girl  at  all." 

"Leave  that  to  me,"  Kapfer  declared.  "D'ye 
know  what  I'll  tell  him?"  He  looked  hard  at  Elkan 
Lubliner  before  he  continued.  "I'll  tell  him,"  he 
said,  "that  Elkan  is  already  engaged." 

"Already  engaged!"  Polatkin  cried. 

"Sure!"  Kapfer  said  —  "secretly  engaged  unbe- 
knownst to  everybody." 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      117 

"But  right  away  to-morrow  morning  Fischko 
would  come  down  and  tell  Scheikowitz  that  you 
says  Elkan  is  secretly  engaged,  and  Scheikowitz 
would  know  the  whole  thing  was  a  fake  and  that  I 
am  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

"No,  he  wouldn't,"  Kapfer  rejoined,  "because 
Elkan  would  then  and  there  say  that  he  is  secretly 
engaged  and  that  would  let  you  out." 

"Sure  it  would,"  Polatkin  agreed;  "and  then 
Scheikowitz  would  want  to  kill  Elkan." 

Suddenly  Elkan  struck  the  table  with  his 
clenched  fist. 

"I've  got  the  idee!"  he  said.  "I  wouldn't  come 
downtown  till  Saturday  —  because  we  will  say, 
for  example,  I  am  sick.  Then,  when  Fischko 
says  I  am  secretly  engaged,  you  can  say  you 
don't  know  nothing  about  it;  and  by  the  time 
I  come  down  on  Saturday  morning  I  would  be 
engaged  all  right,  and  nobody  could  do  nothing 
any  more." 

"That's  true  too,"  Kapfer  said,  "because  your 
date  with  Rashkind  is  for  to-morrow  night  and  by 
Saturday  the  whole  thing  would  be  over." 

Polatkin  nodded  doubtfully,  but  after  a  quarter 
of  an  hour's  earnest  discussion  he  was  convinced 
of  the  wisdom  of  Elkan's  plan. 

"All  right,  Elkan,"  he  said  at  last.  "Be  down 
early  on  Saturday." 

"Eight  o'clock  sure,"  Elkan  replied  as  he  shook 


n8  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Polatkin's  hand;  "and  by  that  time  I  hope  you'll 
congratulate  me  on  my  engagement." 

"I  hope  so,"  Polatkin  said. 

"Me  too,"  Kapfer  added  after  Polatkin  departed; 
"and  I  also  hope,  Elkan,  this  would  be  a  warning 
to  you  that  the  next  time  you  get  engaged  you 
should  find  out  the  girl's  name  in  advance." 

"Yes,  siree,  sir,"  said  Charles  Fischko  emphati- 
cally, albeit  a  trifle  thickly.  "I  guess  you  made  a 
big  hit  there,  Mr.  Kapfer,  and  I  don't  think  I  am 
acting  previously  when  I  drink  to  the  health  of 
Mrs.  Kapfer."  He  touched  glasses  with  Max 
Kapfer,  who  sat  opposite  to  him  at  a  secluded  table 
in  the  Harlem  Winter  Garden,  flanked  by  two 
bottles  of  what  had  been  a  choice  brand  of  California 
champagne.  "Nee  Miss  Maslik,"  he  added  as  he 
put  down  his  glass;  "and  I  think  you  are  getting 
a  young  lady  which  is  not  only  good-looking  but 
she  is  got  also  a  heart  like  gold.  Look  at  the  way 
she  treats  the  servant  girl  they  got  there !  Honestly, 
when  I  was  round  there  this  morning  them  two 
girls  was  talking  like  sisters  already  I" 

"That's  all  right,"  Kapfer  rejoined;  "she's  got 
a  right  to  treat  that  girl  like  a  sister.  She's  a  nice 
little  girl  —  that  servant  girl. " 

"Don't  I  know  it!"  Fischko  protested  as  he  poured 
himself  out  another  glass  of  wine.  "It  was  me  that 
got  her  the  job  there  two  years  ago  already;  and 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      119 

before  I  would  recommend  to  a  family  like  B.  Mas- 
lik's  a  servant  girl,  understand  me,  I  would  make 
sure  she  comes  from  decent,  respectable  people. 
Also  the  girl  is  a  wonderful  cook,  Mr.  Kapfer, 
simple,  plain,  everyday  dish  like  gejullte  Hechte, 
Mr.  Kapfer;  she  makes  it  like  it  would  be  roast 
goose  already  —  so  fine  she  cooks  it.  She  learned 
it  from  her  mother,  Mr.  Kapfer,  also  a  wonderful 
cook.  Why,  would  you  believe  it,  Mr.  Kapfer, 
that  girl's  own  mother  and  me  comes  pretty  near 
being  engaged  to  be  married  oncet?" 

"You  don't  sayl"  Kapfer  commented. 

"That  was  from  some  years  ago  in  the  old  country 
already,"  Fischko  continued;  "and  I  guess  I  ought 
to  be  lucky  I  didn't  do  so,  on  account  she  marries 
a  feller  by  the  name  Silbermacher,  olav  hasholem, 
which  he  is  got  the  misfortune  to  get  killed  in  Kish- 
inef.  Poor  Mrs.  Silbermacher,  she  didn't  live  long, 
and  the  daughter,  Yetta,  comes  to  America  an 
orphan  five  years  ago.  Ever  since  then  the  girl 
looks  out  for  herself;  and  so  sure  as  you  are  sitting 
there  she's  got  in  savings  bank  already  pretty  near 
eight  hundred  dollars." 

"Is  that  so?"  Kapfer  interrupted. 

"Yes,  sir,"  Fischko  replied;  "and  when  she  is 
got  a  thousand,  understand  me,  I  would  find  for  her 
a  nice  young  man,  Mr.  Kapfer,  which  he  is  got 
anyhow  twenty-five  machines  a  contracting  shop, 
y'understand,  and  she  will  get  married  und  fertig. 


120  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

With  such  good  friends  which  I  got  it  like  Polatkin  & 
Scheikowitz,  I  could  throw  a  little  business  their  way, 
and  the  first  thing  you  know  she  is  settled  for  life." 

Here  Fischko  drained  his  glass  and  reached  out 
his  hand  toward  the  bottle;  but  Kapfer  anticipated 
the  move  and  emptied  the  remainder  of  the  wine 
into  his  own  glass. 

"Before  I  order  another  bottle,  Fischko,"  he  said, 
"I  would  like  to  talk  a  little  business  with  you." 

"Never  mind  another  bottle,"  Fischko  said.  "I 
thought  we  was  through  with  our  business  for  the 
evening." 

"With  our  business,  yes,"  Kapfer  announced; 
"  but  this  story  which  you  are  telling  me  about 
Miss  Silbermacher  interests  me,  Fischko,  and  I 
know  a  young  feller  which  he  is  got  more  as  twenty- 
five  machines  a  contracting  shop;  in  fact,  Fischko, 
he  is  a  salesman  which  he  makes  anyhow  his  fifty 
to  seventy-five  dollars  a  week,  and  he  wants  to  get 
married  bad." 

"He  couldn't  want  to  get  married  so  bad  as  all 
that,"  Fischko  commented,  "because  there's  lots 
of  girls  which  would  be  only  too  glad  to  marry  a 
such  a  young  feller  —  girls  with  money  even." 

"I  give  you.  right,  Mr.  Fischko,"  Kapfer  agreed; 
"but  this  young  feller  ain't  the  kind  that  marries 
for  money.  What  he  wants  is  a  nice  girl  which  she 
is  good-looking  like  this  here  Miss  Silbermacher 
and  is  a  good  housekeeper,  understand  me;  and  from 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      121 

what  I've  seen  of  Miss  Silbermacher  she  would  be 
just  the  person." 

"What's  his  name?"  Fischko  asked. 

"His  name,"  said  Kapfer,  "is  Uiy  Shemansky, 
a  close  friend  from  mine;  and  I  got  a  date  with 
him  at  twelve  o'clock  on  the  corner  drug  store  at 
One  Hundred  and  Twenty-fifth  Street  that  I  should 
tell  him  how  I  came  out  this  evening."  He  seized 
his  hat  from  an  adjoining  hook.  "So,  if  you'd 
wait  here  a  few  minutes,"  he  said,  "I  would  go 
and  fetch  him  right  round  here.  Shall  I  order 
another  bottle  before  I  go?" 

Fischko  shook  his  head. 

"I  got  enough,"  he  said;  "and  don't  be  long  on 
account  I  must  be  going  home  soon." 

Kapfer  nodded,  and  five  minutes  later  he  entered 
the  all-night  drug  store  in  question  and  approached 
a  young  man  who  was  seated  at  the  soda  fountain. 
In  front  of  him  stood  a  large  glass  of  "Phospho- 
Nervino,"  warranted  to  be  "A  Speedy  and  Reliable 
Remedy  for  Nervous  Headache,  Sleeplessness, 
Mental  Fatigue  and  Depression  following  Over- 
Brainwork";  and  as  he  was  about  to  raise  the 
glass  to  his  lips  Kapfer  slapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"Cheer  up,  Elkan,"  he  exclaimed.  "Her  name 
is  Yetta  Silbermacher  and  she's  got  in  savings  bank 
eight  hundred  dollars." 

"What  d'ye  mean  she's  got  money  in  savings 
bank?"  Elkan  protested  wearily,  for  the  sleepless, 


122  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

brain-fatigued  and  depressed  young  man  was  none 
other  than  Elkan  Lubliner.  "Did  you  seen  her?" 

"I  did,"  Kapfer  replied;  "and  Miss  Maslik's  a 
fine,  lovely  girl.  The  old  man  ain't  so  bad  either. 
He  treated  me  elegant  and  Fischko  thinks  I  made 
quite  a  hit  there." 

"I  ain*t  asking  you  about  Miss  Maslik  at  all," 
Elkan  said.  "I  mean  Miss  Silbermacher"  —  he 
hesitated  and  blushed  —  "  Yetta,"  he  continued,  and 
buried  his  confusion  in  the  foaming  glass  of 
"Phospho-Nervino." 

"That's  just  what  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about," 
Kapfer  went  on.  "Did  I  understand  you  are  telling 
Polatkin  that  you  never  seen  Fischko  the  Shadchen 
and  he  never  seen  you  neither?" 

"That's  right,"  Elkan  replied. 

"Then  come  right  down  with  me  to  the  Harlem 
Winter  Garden,"  Kapfer  said.  "I  want  you  to 
meet  him.  He  ain't  a  bad  sort,  even  if  he  would 
be  a  Shadchen" 

"But  what  should  I  want  to  meet  him  for?" 
Elkan  cried. 

"Because,"  Kapfer  explained,  "I  am  going  to 
marry  this  here  Miss  Maslik,  Elkan;  and  I'm  going 
to  improve  my  store  property,  so  that  my  trade 
will  be  worth  to  Polatkin  &  Scheikowitz  anyhow  three 
thousand  dollars  a  year  —  ain't  it?" 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?"  Elkan  asked. 

"It's  got  this  much  to  do  with  it,"  Kapfer  con- 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      123 

tinued:  "To-morrow  afternoon  two  o'clock  I  would 
have  Polatkin  and  Scheikowitz  at  my  room  in  the 
Prince  Clarence.  You  also  would  be  there  —  and 
d'ye  know  who  else  would  be  there?" 

Elkan  shook  his  head. 

"Miss  Yetta  Silbermacher,"  Kapfer  went  on; 
"because  I  am  going  to  get  Fischko  to  bring  her 
down  there  to  meet  an  eligible  party  by  the  name 
Ury  Shemansky." 

"What?"  Elkan  exclaimed. 

"  Ssh-sh!"  Kapfer  cried  reassuringly.  "  I  am  going 
to  introduce  you  to  Fischko  right  away  as  Ury 
Shemansky,  provided  he  ain't  so  shikker  when  I 
get  back  that  he  wouldn't  recognize  you  at  all." 

Elkan  nodded  and  paid  for  his  restorative,  and 
on  their  way  down  to  the  Harlem  Winter  Garden 
they  perfected  the  details  of  the  appointment  for 
the  following  afternoon. 

"The  reason  why  I  am  getting  Fischko  to  bring 
her  down,"  Kapfer  explained,  "is  because,  in  the 
first  place,  it  looks  pretty  schlecht  that  a  feller 
should  meet  a  girl  only  once  and,  without  the  help 
of  a  Shadchen,  gets  right  away  engaged  to  her; 
and  so,  with  Fischko  the  Shadchen  there,  it  looks 
better  for  you  both.  Furthermore,  in  the  second 
place,  a  girl  which  is  doing  housework,  Elkan,  must 
got  to  have  an  excuse,  understand  me;  otherwise 
she  couldn't  get  away  from  her  work  at  all." 

"But,"   Elkan    said,    "how  do  you   expect  that 


i24  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Yetta  would  go  with  a  Shadchen  to  see  this  here 
Ury  Shemansky  when  she  is  already  engaged  to  me?" 

"Schafskopf!"  Kapfer  exclaimed.  "Telephone 
her  the  first  thing  to-morrow  morning  that  you  are 
this  here  Ury  Shemansky  and  she  would  come  quick 
enough 1" 

"That  part's  all  right,"  Elkan  agreed;  "but 
I  don't  see  yet  how  you  are  going  to  get  Polatkin 
and  Scheikowitz  there." 

Kapfer  nodded  his  head  with  spurious  confidence; 
for  of  this,  perhaps  the  most  important  part  of  his 
plan,  he  felt  extremely  doubtful. 

"Leave  that  to  me,"  he  said  sagely,  and  the  next 
moment  they  entered  the  Harlem  Winter  Garden 
to  find  Charles  Fischko  gazing  sadly  at  a  solution 
of  bicarbonate  of  soda  and  ammonia,  a  tumblerful 
of  which  stood  in  front  of  him  on  the  table. 

"Mr.  Fischko,"  Kapfer  said,  "this  is  my  friend 
Ury  Shemansky,  the  gentleman  I  was  speaking  to 
you  about." 

"No  relation  to  Shemansky  who  used  to  was  in 
the  customer  pedler  business  on  Ridge  Street?" 
Fischko  asked. 

"Not  as  I've  heard,"  Elkan  said. 

"Because  there's  a  feller,  understand  me,  which 
he  went  to  work  and  married  a  poor  girl;  and  ever 
since  he's  got  nothing  but  MazeL  The  week  after- 
ward he  found  in  the  street  a  diamond  ring  worth 
two  hundred  dollars,  and  the  next  month  a>  green- 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      125 

horn  comes  over  with  ten  thousand  rubles  and  wants 
to  go  as  partners  together  with  him  in  business. 
In  a  year's  time  Shemansky  dissolves  the  partner- 
ship and  starts  in  the  remnant  business  with  five 
thousand  dollars  net  capital.  He  ain't  been  estab- 
lished two  weeks,  understand  me,  when  a  liquor 
saloon  next  door  burns  out  and  he  gets  a  thousand 
dollars  smoke  damage;  and  one  thing  follows  another, 
y'understand,  till  to-day  he's  worth  easy  his  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  That's  what  it  is  to  marry  a 
poor  girl,  Mr.  Shemansky."  He  took  a  pull  at  the 
tumbler  of  bicarbonate  and  made  an  involuntary 
grimace.  "Furthermore,  I  am  knowing  this  here 
Miss  Silbermacher  ever  since  she  is  born,  pretty 
nearly  I"  Fischko  cried. 

" You  did ! "  Elkan  exclaimed.  "Well,  why  didn't 
you  tell  me  that,  Kapfer?" 

"  I  couldn't  think  of  everything,"  Kapfer  protested. 

"Go  ahead,"  Elkan  said,  turning  to  Fischko; 
"let  me  know  all  about  her  —  everything!  I  think 
I  got  a  right  to  know  —  ain't  it?" 

"Sure  you  have,"  Fischko  said  as  he  cleared  his 
throat  oratorically;  and  therewith  he  began  a 
laudatory  biography  of  Yetta  Silbermacher,  while 
Elkan  settled  himself  to  listen.  With  parted  lips 
and  eyes  shining  his  appreciation,  he  heard  a  narra- 
tive that  justified  beyond  peradventure  his  choice 
of  a  wife,  and  when  Fischko  concluded  he  smote  the 
table  with  his  fist. 


126  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"By  jiminy!"  he  cried.  "A  feller  should  ought 
to  be  proud  of  a  wife  like  that!" 

"Sure  he  should,"  Kapfer  said;  "and  her  and 
Fischko  would  be  down  at  my  room  at  the  Prince 
Clarence  to-morrow  at  two." 

He  beckoned  to  the  waiter.  "So  let's  pay  up 
and  go  home,"  he  concluded;  "and  by  to-morrow 
night  Fischko  would  got  two  matches  to  his  credit." 

"K'mo  she-neemar"  Fischko  said  as  he  rose  a 
trifle  laboriously  to  his  feet,  "it  is  commanded  to 
promote  marriages,  visit  the  sick  and  bury  the 
dead." 

"And,"  Kapfer  added,  "you'll  notice  that  pro- 
moting marriages  comes  ahead  of  the  others." 

When  Marcus  Polatkin  arrived  at  his  place  of 
business  the  following  morning  he  looked  round 
him  anxiously  for  his  partner,  who  had  departed 
somewhat  early  the  previous  day  with  the  avowed 
intention  of  seeing  just  how  sick  Elkan  was.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  Scheikowitz  had  discovered  Elkan 
lying  on  the  sofa  at  his  boarding  place,  vainly 
attempting  to  secure  his  first  few  minutes'  sleep 
in  over  thirty-six  hours;  and  he  had  gone  home  truly 
shocked  at  Elkan's  pallid  and  careworn  appearance, 
though  Elkan  had  promised  to  keep  the  appoint- 
ment with  Fischko.  Polatkin  felt  convinced,  how- 
ever, that  his  partner  must  have  discovered  the 
pretence  of  Elkan's  indisposition,  and  his  manner 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      127 

was  a  trifle  artificial  when  he  inquired  after  the 
absentee. 

"How  was  he  feeling,  Philip?"  he  asked. 

"Pretty  bad,  I  guess,"  Scheikowitz  replied, 
whereat  a  blank  expression  came  over  Polatkin's 
face.  "The  boy  works  too  hard,  I  guess.  He 
ain't  slept  a  wink  for  two  days." 

"Why,  he  seemed  all  right  yesterday  when  I  seen 
him,"  Polatkin  declared. 

"Yesterday?"  Scheikowitz  exclaimed. 

"I  mean  the  day  before  yesterday,"  Polatkin 
added  hastily  as  the  elevator  door  opened  and  a 
short,  stout  person  alighted.  He  wore  a  wrinkled 
frock  coat  and  a  white  tie  which  perched  coquet- 
tishly  under  his  left  ear;  and  as  he  approached  the 
office  he  seemed  to  be  labouring  under  a  great  deal 
of  excitement. 

"Oo-ee!"  he  wailed  as  he  caught  sight  of  Polatkin, 
and  without  further  salutation  he  sank  into  the 
nearest  chair.  There  he  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands 
and  rocked  to  and  fro  disconsolately. 

"Who's  this  crazy  feller?"  Scheikowitz  demanded 
of  his  partner. 

Polatkin  shrugged. 

"He's  a  button  salesman  by  the  name  Rashkind," 
Polatkin  said.  "Leave  me  deal  with  him."  He 
walked  over  to  the  swaying  Shadchen  and  shook 
him  violently  by  the  shoulder.  "  Rashkind,"  he  said, 
"stop  that  nonsense  and  tell  me  what's  the  matter." 


128  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Rashkind  ceased  his  meanings  and  looked  up  with 
bloodshot  eyes. 

"She's  engaged  I  "he  said. 

"She's  engaged!"  Polatkin  repeated.  "And  you 
call  yourself  a  Shadchen!"  he  said  bitterly. 

"A  Shadchen!"  Scheikowitz  cried.  "Why,  I 
thought  you  said  he  was  a  button  salesman." 

"Did  I?"  Polatkin  retorted.  "Well,  maybe  he 
is,  Scheikowitz;  but  he  ain't  no  Shadchen.  Actually 
the  feller  goes  to  work  and  takes  Elkan  up  to  see 
the  girl,  and  they  put  him  off  by  saying  the  girl 
was  sick;  and  now  he  comes  down  here  and  tells  me 
the  girl  is  engaged." 

"Well,"  Scheikowitz  remarked,  "you  couldn't 
get  no  sympathy  from  me,  Polatkin.  A  feller  which 
acts  underhand  the  way  you  done,  trying  to  make 
up  a  Shidduch  for  Elkan  behind  my  back  yet  —  you 
got  what  you  deserved." 

"What  d'ye  mean  I  got  what  I  deserved?" 
Polatkin  said  indignantly.  "Do  you  think  it  would 
be  such  a  bad  thing  for  us  —  you  and  me  both, 
Scheikowitz  —  if  I  could  of  made  up  a  match 
between  Elkan  and  B.  Maslik's  a  daughter?" 

"B.  Maslik's  a  daughter!"  Scheikowitz  cried. 
"Do  you  mean  that  this  here  feller  was  trying  to 
make  up  a  match  between  Elkan  and  Miss  Birdie 
Maslik?" 

"That's  just  what  I  said,"  Polatkin  announced. 

"Then  I  can  explain  the  whole  thing,"  Scheiko- 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      129 

witz  rejoined  triumphantly.  "Miss  Maslik  had  a 
date  to  meet  Elkan  last  night  yet  with  a  Shadchen 
by  the  name  Charles  Fischko,  and  that's  why  B. 
Maslik  told  this  here  button  salesman  that  his 
daughter  was  engaged." 

Rashkind  again  raised  his  head  and  regarded 
Scheikowitz  with  a  malevolent  grin. 

"Schmooes!"  he  jeered.  "Miss  Maslik  is  engaged 
and  the  Shadchen  was  Charles  Fischko,  but  the 
Chosan  ain't  Elkan  Lubliner  by  a  damsight." 

It  was  now  Polatkin's  turn  to  gloat,  and  he  shook 
his  head  slowly  up  and  down. 

"So,  Scheikowitz,"  he  said,  "you  are  trying  to 
fix  up  a  Shidduch  between  Elkan  and  Miss  Maslik 
without  telling  me  a  word  about  it,  and  you  get 
the  whole  thing  so  mixed  up  that  it  is  a  case  of  trying 
to  sit  between  two  chairs!  You  come  down  mit 
a  big  bump  and  I  ain't  got  no  sympathy  for  you 
neither." 

"What  was  the  feller's  name?"  Scheikowitz 
demanded  hoarsely  of  Rashkind,  who  was  straight- 
ening out  his  tie  and  smoothing  his  rumpled 
hair. 

"It's  a  funny  quincidence,"  Rashkind  replied; 
"but  you  remember,  Mr.  Polatkin,  I  was  talking  to 
you  the  other  day  about  Julius  Flixman?" 

"Yes,"  Polatkin  said,  and  his  heart  began  to 
thump  in  anticipation  of  the  answer. 

"Well,  Julius  Flixman,  as  I  told  you,  sold  out 


130  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

his  store  to  a  feller  by  the  name  Max  Kapfer," 
Rashkind  said  and  paused  again. 

"Nu!"  Scheikowitz  roared.     "What  of  it?" 

"Well,  this  here  Max  Kapfer  is  engaged  to  be 
married  to  Miss  Birdie  Maslik,"  Rashkind  con- 
cluded; and  when  Scheikowitz  looked  from  Rashkind 
toward  his  partner  the  latter  had  already  proceeded 
more  than  halfway  to  the  telephone. 

"And  that's  what  your  Shadchen  done  for  you, 
Mr.  Scheikowitz!"  Rashkind  said  as  he  put  on  his 
hat.  He  walked  to  the  elevator  and  rang  the  bell. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,"  Rashkind  added,  "as  a 
Shadchen,  maybe  I  am  a  button  salesman;  but  I'd 
a  whole  lot  sooner  be  a  button  salesman  as  a  thief 
and  don't  you  forget  it!" 

After  the  elevator  had  borne  Rashkind  away 
Scheikowitz  went  back  to  the  office  in  time  to  hear 
Marcus  engaged  in  a  noisy  altercation  with  the  tele- 
phone operator  of  the  Prince  Clarence  Hotel. 

"What  d'ye  mean  he  ain't  there?"  he  bellowed. 
"With  you  it's  always  the  same  —  I  could  never 
get  nobody  at  your  hotel." 

He  hung  up  the  receiver  with  force  almost  suffi- 
cient to  wreck  the  instrument. 

"That'll  do,  Polatkin!"  Scheikowitz  said.  "We 
already  got  half  our  furniture  smashed." 

"Did  I  done  it?"  Polatkin  growled  —  the  allusion 
being  to  the  chair  demolished  by  Scheikowitz  on 
the  previous  day. 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      131 

"You  was  the  cause  of  it,"  Scheikowitz  retorted; 
"and,  anyhow,  who  are  you  ringing  up  at  the 
Prince  Clarence?" 

"I'm  ringing  up  that  feller  Kapfer,"  Polatkin 
replied.  "I  want  to  tell  that  sucker  what  I  think 
of  him." 

Then  it  was  that  Kapfer's  theory  as  to  the  effect 
of  his  engagement  on  his  relations  with  Polatkin 
&  Scheikowitz  became  justified  in  fact. 

"You  wouldn't  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  Scheiko- 
witz declared.  "It  ain't  bad  enough  that  Elkan 
loses  this  here  Shidduch,  but  you  are  trying  to 
Jonah  a  good  account  also!  Why,  that  feller 
Kapfer's  business  after  he  marries  Miss  Maslik 
would  be  easy  worth  to  us  three  thousand  dollars 
a  year." 

"I  don't  care  what  his  business  is  worth,"  Polatkin 
shouted.  "I  would  say  what  I  please  to  that 
highwayman!" 

"What  do  you  want  to  do?"  Scheikowitz 
pleaded  —  "bite  off  your  nose  to  spoil  your  face?" 

Polatkin  made  no  reply  and  he  was  about  to  go 
into  the  showroom  when  the  telephone  bell  rang. 

"Leave  me  answer  it,"  Scheikowitz  said;  and  a 
moment  later  he  picked  up  the  desk  telephone 
and  placed  the  receiver  to  his  ear. 

"Hello!"  he  said.  "Yes,  this  is  Polatkin  &  Schei- 
kowitz. This  is  Mr.  Scheikowitz  talking." 

Suddenly  the  instrument  dropped  with  a  clatter 


i32  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

to  the  floor;  and  while  Scheikowitz  was  stooping 
to  pick  it  up  Polatkin  rushed  into  the  office. 

" Scheikowitz  1"  he  cried.  "What  are  you  trying 
to  do  —  break  up  our  whole  office  yet?  Ain't  it 
enough  you  are  putting  all  our  chairs  on  the  bum 
already?" 

Scheikowitz  contented  himself  by  glaring  viciously 
at  his  partner  and  again  placed  the  receiver  to  his 
ear. 

"Hello,  Mr.  Kapfer,"  he  said.  "Yes,  I  heard 
it  this  morning  already.  Them  things  travels  fast, 
Mr.  Kapfer.  No,  I  don't  blame  you  —  I  blame  this 
here  Fischko.  He  gives  me  a  dirty  deal  —  that's  all." 

Here  there  was  a  long  pause,  while  Polatkin 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  office  floor  like  a  bird- 
dog  pointing  at  a  covey  of  partridges. 

"But  why  couldn't  you  come  down  here,  Mr. 
Kapfer?"  Scheikowitz  asked.  Again  there  was  a 
long  pause,  at  the  end  of  which  Scheikowitz  said: 
"Wait  a  minute  —  I'll  ask  my  partner." 

"Listen  here,  Polatkin,"  he  said,  placing  his 
hand  over  the  transmitter.  "Kapfer  says  he  wants 
to  give  us  from  two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars 
an  order,  and  he  wants  you  and  me  to  go  up  to  the 
Prince  Clarence  at  two  o'clock  to  see  him.  He 
wants  us  both  there  because  he  wants  to  arrange 
terms  of  credit." 

"I  would  see  him  hung  first!"  Polatkin  roared, 
and  Scheikowitz  took  his  hand  from  the  transmitter. 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      133 

"All  right,  Mr.  Kapfer,"  he  answered  in  dulcet 
tones;  "me  and  Polatkin  will  both  be  there. 
Good-bye." 

He  hung  up  the  receiver  with  exaggerated  care. 

"And  you  would  just  bet  your  life  that  we  will 
be  there!"  he  said.  "And  that's  all  there  is  to  it!" 

At  half-past  one  that  afternoon,  while  Max  Kapfer 
was  enjoying  a  good  cigar  in  the  lobby  of  the  Prince 
Clarence,  he  received  an  unexpected  visitor  in  the 
person  of  Julius  Flixman. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Flixman?"  he  cried, 
dragging  forth  a  chair. 

Flixman  extended  a  thin,  bony  hand  in  greeting 
and  sat  down  wearily. 

"I  don't  do  so  good,  Kapfer,"  he  said.  "I  guess 
New  York  don't  agree  with  me."  He  distorted 
his  face  in  what  he  intended  to  be  an  amiable 
smile.  "But  I  guess  it  agrees  with  you  all  right," 
he  continued.  "I  suppose  I  must  got  to  congradu- 
late  you  on  account  you  are  going  to  be  engaged 
to  Miss  Birdie  Maslik." 

"Why,  who  told  you  about  it?"  Kapfer  asked. 

"I  met  this  morning  a  real-estater  by  the  name 
Rashkind,  which  he  is  acquainted  with  the  Maslik 
family,"  Flixman  replied,  "and  he  says  it  happened 
yesterday.  Also  they  told  me  up  at  the  hotel  you 
was  calling  there  this  morning  to  see  me." 

"That's  right,"  Kapfer  said;  "and  you  was  out." 


i34  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"I  was  down  to  see  a  feller  on  Center  Street," 
Flixman  went  on,  "and  so  I  thought,  so  long  as 
you  wanted  to  fix  up  about  the  note,  I  might  just 
as  well  come  down  here." 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,"  Kapfer  interrupted. 

"Not  at  all,"  Flixman  continued.  "When  a  feller 
wants  to  pay  you  money  and  comes  to  see  you  once 
to  do  it  and  you  ain't  in,  understand  me,  then  it's 
up  to  you  to  go  to  him;  so  here  I  am." 

"But  the  fact  is,"  Kapfer  said,  "I  didn't  want 
to  see  you  about  paying  the  money  exactly.  I 
wanted  to  see  you  about  not  paying  it." 

"About  not  paying  it?"  Flixman  cried. 

"Sure!"  Kapfer  replied.  "I  wanted  to  see  if 
you  wouldn't  give  me  a  year's  extension  for  that 
last  thousand  on  account  I  am  going  to  get  married; 
and  with  what  Miss  Maslik  would  bring  me,  y'under- 
stand,  and  your  thousand  dollars  which  I  got  here, 
I  would  just  have  enough  to  fix  up  my  second 
floor  and  build  a  twenty-five-foot  extension  on  the 
rear.  You  see,  I  figure  it  this  way."  He  searched 
his  pocket  for  a  piece  of  paper  and  produced  a  foun- 
tain pen.  "  I  figure  that  the  fixtures  cost  me  twenty- 
two  hundred,"  he  began,  "and " 

At  this  juncture  Flixman  flipped  his  fingers  de- 
risively. 

"Pipe  dreams  you  got  it!"  he  said.  "That  store 
as  it  stands  was  good  enough  for  me,  and  it  should 
ought  to  be  good  enough  for  you.  Furthermore, 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      135 

Kapfer,  if  you  want  to  invest  Maslik's  money 
and  your  own  money,  schon  gut;  but  me,  I  could 
always  put  a  thousand  dollars  into  a  bond,  Kapfer. 
So,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you,  I'll  take  your  check 
and  call  it  square." 

Kapfer  shrugged  resignedly. 

"I  had  an  idee  you  would,"  he  said,  "so  I  got 
it  ready  for  you;  because,  Mr.  Flixman,  you  must 
excuse  me  when  I  tell  you  that  you  got  the  repu- 
tation of  being  a  good  collector." 

"Am  I?"  Flixman  snapped  oat.  "Well,  maybe 
I  am,  Kapfer,  but  I  could  give  my  money  up,  too, 
once  in  a  while;  and,  believe  me  or  not,  Kapfer, 
this  afternoon  yet  I  am  going  to  sign  a  will  which 
I  am  leaving  all  my  money  to  a  Talmud  Torah 
School." 

"You  don't  say  so?"  Kapfer  said  as  he  drew 
out  his  checkbook. 

"That's  what  I  am  telling  you,"  Flixman  con- 
tinued, "because  there's  a  lot  of  young  loafers 
running  round  the  streets  which  nobody  got  any 
control  over  'em  at  all;  and  if  they  would  go'  to  a 
Talmud  Torah  School,  understand  me,  not  only 
they  learn  'em  there  a  little  Loschen  Hakodesch, 
y'understand,  but  they  would  also  pretty  near 
club  the  life  out  of  'em." 

"I'll  write  out  a  receipt  on  some  of  the  hotel 
paper  here,"  Kapfer  said  as  he  signed  and  blotted 
the  check. 


136  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Write  out  two  of  'em,  so  I  would  have  a  copy 
of  what  I  am  giving  you,"  Flixman  rejoined.  "  It's 
always  just  so  good  to  be  businesslike.  That's 
what  I  told  that  lawyer  to-day.  He  wants  me  I 
should  remember  a  couple  of  orphan  asylums  he's 
interested  in,  and  I  told  him  that  if  all  them  suckers 
would  train  up  their  children  they  would  learn  a 
business  and  not  holler  round  the  streets  and  make 
life  miserable  for  people,  they  wouldn't  got  to 
be  orphans  at  all.  Half  the  orphans  is  that  way 
on  account  they  worried  their  parents  to  death 
with  their  carryings-on,  and  when  they  go  to  orphan 
asylums  they  get  treated  kind  yet.  And  people 
is  foolish  enough  to  pay  a  lawyer  fifty  dollars  if  he 
should  draw  up  a  will  to  leave  the  orphan  asylum 
their  good  hard-earned  money." 

He  snorted  indignantly  as  he  examined  Kapfer's 
receipt  and  compared  it  with  the  original. 

"Well,"  he  concluded  as  he  appended  his  signa- 
ture to  the  receipt,  "I  got  him  down  to  twenty- five 
dollars  and  I'll  have  that  will  business  settled  up 
this  afternoon  yet." 

He  placed  the  check  and  the  receipt  in  his  wallet 
and  shook  hands  with  Kapfer. 

"Good-bye,"  he  said.  "And  one  thing  let  me  warn 
you  against:  A  Chosan  should  always  get  his  money 
in  cash  oder  certified  check  before  he  goes  under  the 
Chuppah  at  all;  otherwise,  after  you  are  married  and 
your  father-in-law  is  a  crook,  understand  me,  you 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      137 

could  kiss  yourself  good-bye  with  your  wife's 
dowry  —  and  don't  you  forget  it!" 

Max  walked  with  him  down  the  lobby;  and  they 
had  barely  reached  the  entrance  when  Charles 
Fischko  and  Miss  Yetta  Silbermacher  arrived. 

"Hello,  Fischko  1"  Max  cried,  as  Flixman  tottered 
out  into  the  street;  but  Fischko  made  no  reply. 
Instead  he  suddenly  let  go  Miss  Silbermacher's 
arm  and  dashed  hurriedly  to  the  sidewalk.  Max 
led  Miss  Silbermacher  to  a  chair  and  engaged  her 
immediately  in  conversation.  She  was  naturally 
a  little  embarrassed  by  her  unusual  surroundings, 
though  she  was  becomingly  —  not  to  say  fashion- 
ably—  attired  in  garments  of  her  own  making; 
and  she  gazed  timidly  about  her  for  her  absent  lover. 

"Elkan  ain't  here  yet,"  Max  explained,  "on 
account  you  are  a  little  ahead  of  time." 

Miss  Silbermacher's  brown  eyes  sparkled  merrily. 

"I  ain't  the  only  one,"  she  said  as  she  jumped 
to  her  feet;  for,  though  the  hands  of  the  clock  on 
the  desk  pointed  to  ten  minutes  to  two,  Elkan 
Lubliner  approached  from  the  direction  of  the 
cafe.  He  caught  sight  of  them  while  he  was  still 
some  distance  away,  and  two  overturned  chairs 
marked  the  last  of  his  progress  toward  them. 

At  first  he  held  out  his  hand  in  greeting;  but 
the  two  little  dimples  that  accompanied  Yetta's 
smile  overpowered  his  sense  of  propriety,  and  he 
embraced  her  affectionately. 


138  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Where's  Fischko?"  he  asked. 

Both  Kapfer  and  Miss  Silbermacher  looked  toward 
the  street  entrance. 

"He  was  here  a  minute  ago,"  Kapfer  said. 

"Did  you  tell  him  that  I  wasn't  Ury  Shemansky 
at  all?"  Elkan  inquired. 

"Sure  I  did,"  Miss  Silbermacher  replied,  "and 
he  goes  on  something  terrible,  on  account  he  says 
Mr.  Kapfer  told  him  last  night  you  was  already 
engaged;  so  I  told  him  I  know  you  was  engaged 
because  I  am  the  party  you  are  engaged  to." 

She  squeezed  Elkan's  hand. 

"And  he  says  then,"  she  continued,  "that  if  that's 
the  case  what  do  we  want  him  down  here  for? 
So  I  told  him  we  are  going  to  meet  Mr.  Polatkin 
and  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  and " 

"And  they'll  be  right  here  in  a  minute,"  Kapfer 
interrupted;  "so  you  go  upstairs  to  my  room  and 
I'll  find  Fischko  and  bring  him  up  also." 

He  conducted  them  to  the  elevator,  and  even  as 
the  door  closed  behind  them  Fischko  came  running 
up  the  hall. 

"Kapfer,"  he  said,  "who  was  that  feller  which 
he  was  just  here  talking  to  you?" 

"What  d'ye  want  to  know  for?"  Kapfer  asked. 

"Never  mind  what  I  want  to  know  for!"  Fischko 
retorted.  "Who  is  he?" 

"Well,  if  you  must  got  to  know,"  Kapfer  said, 
^he's  a  feller  by  the  name  Julius  Flixman." 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER       139 

"What?"  Fischko  shouted. 

"Fischko,"  Kapfer  protested,  "you  ain't  in  no 
Canal  Street  coffee  house  here.  This  is  a  first- 
class  hotel." 

Fischko  nodded  distractedly. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  he  said.  "Is  there  a  place  we 
could  sit  down  here?  I  want  to  ask  you  something 
a  few  questions." 

Kapfer  led  the  way  to  the  cafe  and  they  sat  down 
at  a  table  near  the  door. 

"  Go  \  ahead,  Fischko,"  he  said.  ^"Polatkin  and 
Scheikowitz  will  be  here  any  minute." 

"Well,"  Fischko  began  falteringly,  "if  this  here 
feller  is  Julius  Flixman,  which  he  is  coming  from 
Bessarabia  schon  thirty  years  ago  already,  I  don't 
want  to  do  nothing  in  a  hurry,  Mr.  Kapfer,  on 
account  I  want  to  investigate  first  how  things  stand." 

"What  d'ye  mean?"  Kapfer  demanded. 

"Why,  I  mean  this,"  Fischko  cried:  "If  this 
here  Flixman  is  well  fixed,  Kapfer,  I  want  to  know 
it,  on  account  Miss  Yetta  Silbermacher  is  from 
Flixman's  sister  a  daughter,  understand  me!" 

Kapfer  lit  a  cigar  deliberately  before  replying. 
He  was  thinking  hard. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  said  at  last,  "that 
this  here  Miss  Silbermacher  is  Julius  Flixman's  a 
niece?" 

"That's  what  I  said,"  Fischko  replied.  "He 
comes  here  from  Bessarabia  thirty  years  ago  already 


i4o  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

and  from  that  day  to  this  I  never  heard  a  word 
about  him  —  Miss  Silbermacher  neither." 

"Ain't  the  rest  of  his  family  heard  from  him?" 
Kapfer  asked  guardedly. 

"There  ain't  no  rest  of  his  family,"  Fischko  said. 
"Mrs.  Silbermacher  was  his  only  sister,  and  she's 
deaJ  over  ten  years  since." 

Kapfer  nodded  and  drew  reflectively  on  his  cigar. 

"Well,  Fischko,"  he  said  finally,  "I  wouldn't 
let  Flixman  worry  me  none.  He's  practically  a 
Schnorrer;  he  was  in  here  just  now  on  account  he 
hears  I  am  going  to  marry  a  rich  girl  and  touches 
me  for  some  money  on  the  head  of  it.  I  guess 
you  noticed  that  he  looks  pretty  shabby  —  ain't 
it?" 

"And  sick  too,"  Fischko  added,  just  as  a  bellboy 
came  into  the  cafe. 

"Mr.  Copper  1"  he  bawled,  and  Max  jumped  to 
his  feet. 

"Right  here,"  he  said,  and  the  bellboy  handed 
him  a  card. 

"Tell  them  I'll  be  with  them  in  a  minute,"  he 
continued;  "and  you  stay  here  till  I  come  back, 
Fischko.  I  won't  be  long." 

He  followed  the  bellboy  to  the  desk,  where  stood 
Polatkin  and  Scheikowitz. 

"Good  afternoon,  gentlemen,"  he  said. 

"Well,  Mr.  Kapfer,"  Scheikowitz  replied,  "I 
guess  I  gQt  to  congradulate  you." 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      141 

"Sure!"  Kapfer  murmured  perfunctorily.  "Let's 
go  into  the  Moorish  Room." 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  cafe?"  Polatkin 
asked;  but  Scheikowitz  settled  the  matter  by  leading 
the  way  to  the  Moorish  Room,  where  they  all  sat 
down  at  a  secluded  table. 

"The  first  thing  I  want  to  tell  you,  gentlemen," 
Kapfer  said,  "is  that  I  know  you  feel  that  I  turned 
a  dirty  trick  on  you  about  Elkan." 

Scheikowitz  shrugged  expressively. 

"The  way  we  feel  about  it,  Mr.  Kapfer,"  he  com- 
mented, "  is  that  bygones  must  got  to  be  bygones  — 
and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"But,"  Kapfer  said,  "I  don't  want  the  bygones 
to  be  all  on  my  side;  so  I  got  a  proposition  to  make 
you.  How  would  it  be  if  I  could  fix  up  a  good 
Shidduch  for  Elkan  myself?" 

"What  for  a  Shidduch?"  Polatkin  asked. 

"The  girl  is  an  orphan,"  Kapfer  replied,  "aber 
she's  got  one  uncle,  a  bachelor,  which  ain't  got  no 
relation  in  the  world  but  her,  and  he's  worth  anyhow 
seventy-five  thousand  dollars." 

"How  do  you  know  he's  worth  that  much?" 
Polatkin  demanded. 

"Because  I  got  some  pretty  close  business  dealings 
with  him,"  Kapfer  replied;  "and  not  only  do  I 
know  he's  worth  that  much,  but  I  guess  you  do 
too,  Mr.  Polatkin,  on  account  his  name  is  Julius 
Flixman." 


142  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Julius  Flixman?"  Scheikowitz  cried.  "Why, 
Julius  Flixman  ain't  got  a  relation  in  the  world  — 
he  told  me  so  himself." 

"When  did  he  told  you  that?"  Kapfer  asked. 

"A  couple  of  days  ago,"  Scheikowitz  replied. 

"Then  that  accounts  for  it,"  Kapfer  said.  "A 
couple  of  days  ago  nobody  knows  he  had  a  niece  — 
not  even  Flixman  himself  didn't;  but  to-day  yet 
he  would  know  it  and  he  would  tell  you  so  himself." 

"But "  Scheikowitz  began,  when  once  again 

a  page  entered  the  room,  bawling  a  phonetic  imita- 
tion of  Kapfer's  name. 

"Wanted  at  the  'phone,"  he  called  as  he  caught 
sight  of  Kapfer. 

"Excuse  me,"  Kapfer  said.     "I'll  be  right  back." 

He  walked  hurriedly  out  of  the  room,  and  Polatkin 
turned  with  a  shrug  to  his  partner. 

"Well,  Scheikowitz,"  he  began,  "what  did  I  told 
you?  We  are  up  here  on  a  fool's  errand — ain't  it?" 

Scheikowitz  made  no  reply. 

"I'll  tell  you,  Polatkin,"  he  said  at  length,  "Flix- 
man himself  says  to  me  he  did  got  one  sister  living 
in  Bessarabia,  and  he  ain't  heard  from  her  in  thirty 
years;  and " 

At  this  juncture  Kapfer  rushed  into  the  room. 

"Scheikowitz,"  he  gasped,  "I  just  now  got  a 
telephone  message  from  a  lawyer  on  Center  Street, 
by  the  name  Goldenfein,  I  should  come  right  down 
there.  Flixman  is  taken  sick  suddenly  and  they 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      143 

find  in  his  pocket  my  check  and  a  duplicate  receipt 
which  he  gives  me,  written  on  the  hotel  paper. 
Do  me  the  favour  and  come  with  me." 

Fifteen  minutes  later  they  stepped  out  of  a  taxicab 
in  front  of  an  old-fashioned  office  building  in  Center 
Street  and  elbowed  their  way  through  a  crowd  of 
over  a  hundred  people  toward  the  narrow  doorway. 

" Where  do  yous  think  you're  going?"  asked 
a  policeman  whose  broad  shoulders  completely 
blocked  the  little  entrance. 

"We  was  telephoned  for,  on  account  a  friend  of 
ours  by  the  name  Flixman  is  taken  sick  here," 
Kapfer  explained. 

"Go  ahead,"  the  policeman  said  more  gently; 
"but  I  guess  you're  too  late." 

"Is  he  dead?"  Scheikowitz  cried,  and  the  police- 
man nodded  solemnly  as  he  stood  to  one  side. 

More  than  two  hours  elapsed  before  Kapfer, 
Polatkin,  and  Scheikowitz  returned  to  the  Prince 
Clarence.  With  them  was  Kent  J.  Goldenfein. 

"Mr.  Kapfer,"  the  clerk  said,  "there's  a  man 
been  waiting  for  you  in  the  cafe  for  over  two  hours." 

"I'll  bring  him  right  in,"  Kapfer  said,  and  two 
minutes  afterward  he  brought  the  gesticulating 
Fischko  out  of  the  cafe. 

"Do  you  think  I  am  a  dawg?"  Fischko  cried. 
"I've  been  here  two  hours!" 

"Well,  come  into  the  Moorish  Room  a  minute," 


i44  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Kapfer  pleaded,  "and  I'll  fix  everything  up  with 
you  afterward." 

He  led  the  protesting  Shadchen  through  the  lobby, 
and  when  they  entered  the  Moorish  Room  an 
impressive  scene  awaited  them.  On  a  divan, 
beneath  some  elaborate  plush  draperies,  sat  Kent 
J.  Goldenfein,  flanked  on  each  side  by  Polatkin 
and  Scheikowitz  respectively,  while  spread  on  the 
table  in  front  of  them  were  the  drafts  of  Flixman's 
will  and  the  engrossed,  unsigned  copy,  together 
with  such  other  formidable-looking  documents  as 
Goldenfein  happened  to  find  in  his  pockets.  He 
rose  majestically  as  Fischko  entered  and  turned  on 
him  a  beetling  frown. 

"Is  this  the  fellow?"  he  demanded  sepulchrally, 
and  Kapfer  nodded. 

"Mr.  Fischko,"  Goldenfein  went  on,  "I  am 
an  officer  of  the  Supreme  Court  and  I  have  been 
retained  to  investigate  the  affairs  of  Mr.  Julius 
Flixman." 

"  Say,  lookyhere,  Kapfer,"  Fischko  cried.  "  What 
is  all  this?" 

Kapfer  drew  forward  a  chair.. 

"Sit  down,  Fischko,"  he  said,  "and  answer  the 
questions  that  he  is  asking  you." 

"But "  Fischko  began. 

"Come,  come,  Mr.  Fischko,"  Goldenfein  boomed, 
"you  are  wasting  our  time  here.  Raise  your  right 
hand!" 


A  MATCH  FOR  ELKAN  LUBLINER      145 

Fischko  glanced  despairingly  at  Kapfer  and  then 
obeyed. 

"Do  you  solemnly  swear,"  said  Goldenfein,  who, 
besides  being  an  attorney-at-law  was  also  a  notary 
public,  "that  the  affidavit  you  will  hereafter  sign 
will  be  the  truth,  the  whole  truth  and  nothing 
but  the  truth,  so  help  you  God?" 

"But "  Fischko  began  again. 

"Do  you?"  Goldenfein  roared,  and  Fischko 
nodded.  Forthwith  Goldenfein  plied  him  with  such 
ingeniously  fashioned  questions  concerning  the  Flix- 
man  family  that  the  answers  presented  a  complete 
history  of  all  its  branches.  Furthermore,  the 
affidavit  which  Goldenfein  immediately  drew  up 
lacked  only  such  confirmatory  evidence  as  could 
easily  be  supplied  to  establish  the  identity  of  Miss 
Yetta  Silbermacher  as  Julius  Flixman's  only  heir- 
at-law;  and,  after  Fischko  had  meekly  signed  the 
jurat,  Goldenfein  rose  ponderously  to  his  feet. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  he  said. 
"I  think  there  is  no  doubt  that  your  nephew's 
fiancee  will  inherit  Flixman's  estate,  thanks  to  my 
professional  integrity." 

"What  d'ye  mean  your  professional  integrity?" 
Kapfer  asked. 

"Why,  if  I  hadn't  refused  to  accept  twenty-two 
dollars  for  drawing  the  will  and  insisted  on  the 
twenty-five  we  had  agreed  upon,"  Goldenfein 
explained,  "he  would  never  have  suffered  the  heart 


146  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

attack  which  prevented  his  signing  the  will  before 
he  died." 

"Died!"  Fischko  exclaimed.  "Is  Julius  Flixman 
dead?" 

"Koosh,  Fischko!"  Polatkin  commanded.  "You 
would  think  you  was  one  of  the  family  the  way  you 
are  acting.  Come  down  to  our  store  to-morrow 
and  we  would  arrange  things  with  you."  He  turned 
to  Kapfer. 

"Let's  go  upstairs  and  see  Elkan  —  and  Yetta," 
he  said. 

Immediately  they  trooped  to  the  elevator  and 
ascended  to  the  seventh  floor. 

"All  of  you  wait  here  in  the  corridor,"  Kapfer 
whispered,  "and  I'll  go  and  break  it  to  them." 
He  tiptoed  to  his  room  and  knocked  gently  at  the 
door. 

"Come!"  Elkan  cried,  and  Kapfer  turned  the 
knob. 

On  a  sofa  near  the  window  sat  Elkan,  with  his 
arm  surrounding  his  fiancee's  waist  and  her  head 
resting  on  his  shoulder. 

"Hello,  Max!"  he  cried.  "What's  kept  you? 
We  must  have  been  waiting  here  at  least  a  quarter 
of  an  hour!" 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

HIGHGRADE  LINES 

SURE,  I  know,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,"  cried 
Elkan  Lubliner,  junior  partner  of  Polatkin, 
Scheikowitz  &  Company,  as  he  sat  in  the 
firm's  office  late  one  February  afternoon;  "but  if 
you  want  to  sell  a  highgrade  concern  like  Joseph 
Kammerman  you  must  got  to  got  a  highgrade  line 
of  goods." 

"Ain't  I  am  telling  you  that  all  the  time?"  Schei- 
kowitz replied.  " Aber  we  sell  here  a  popular-price 
line,  Elkan.  So  what  is  the  use  talking  we  ain't 
ekvipt  for  a  highgrade  line." 

"What  d'ye  mean  we  ain't  equipped,  Mr.  Schei- 
kowitz?" Elkan  protested.  "We  got  here  machines 
and  we  got  here  fixtures,  and  all  we  need  it  now  is 
a  highgrade  designer  and  a  couple  really  good  cutters 
like  that  new  feller  which  is  working  for  us." 

"That's  all  right,  too,  Elkan,"  Marcus  Polatkin 
interrupted;  "but  it  ain't  the  ekvipment  which  it  is 
so  important.  The  reputation  which  we  got  for 
selling  a  popular-price  line  we  couldn't  get  rid 
of  so  easy,  understand  me,  and  that  Betzimmer 
buyer  of  Kammerman's  wouldn't  got  no  confidence 

147 


148  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

in  us  at  all.  The  way  he  figures  it  we  could  just 
so  much  turn  out  a  highgrade  line  of  goods  here  as 
you  could  expect  a  feller  which  is  acting  in  a  moving 
pictures  to  all  of  a  sudden  sing  like  Charuso." 

"Besides,"  Scheikowitz  added,  "highgrade  design- 
ers and  really  good  cutters  means  more  capital, 
Elkan." 

"The  capital  you  shouldn't  worry  about  at  all," 
Elkan  retorted.  "Next  week  my  Yetta  gets  falling 
due  a  second  mortgage  from  old  man  Flixman  for 
five  thousand  dollars,  and " 

Polatkin  made  a  flapping  gesture  with  his  right 
hand. 

"Keep  your  money,  Elkan,"  he  said.  "You 
could  got  lots  of  better  ways  to  invest  it  for  Yetta 
as  fixing  ours-elves  up  to  sell  big  Machers  like  Joseph 
Kammerman." 

"But  it  don't  do  no  harm  I  should  drop  in  and 
see  them  people.  Ain't  it?" 

"Sure  not,"  Scheikowitz  continued  as  he  swung 
round  in  his  revolving  chair  and  seized  a  pile  of  cut- 
ting clips.  "They  got  an  elegant  store  there  on 
Fifth  Avenue  which  it  is  a  pleasure  to  go  into  even; 
and  the  worst  that  happens  you,  Elkan,  is  you  are 
out  a  good  cigar  for  that  Mr.  Dalzell  up  there." 

Elkan  nodded  gloomily,  and  as  he  left  the  office 
Polatkin's  face  relaxed  in  an  indulgent  smile. 

"The  boy  is  getting  awful  ambitious  lately, 
Scheikowitz,"  he  said. 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  149 

"What  d'ye  mean,  ambitious?"  Philip  Scheiko 
witz  cried  angrily.  "If  you  would  be  only  twenty- 
three  years  of  age,  Polatkin,  and  married  to  a  rich 
girl,  understand  me  —  and  also  partner  in  a  good 
concern,  which  the  whole  thing  he  done  it  himself, 
Polatkin  —  you  would  act  a  whole  lot  more  ambi- 
tious as  he  does.  Instead  of  knocking  the  boy, 
Polatkin,  you  should  ought  to  give  him  credit  for 
what  he  done." 

"Who  is  knocking  the  boy?"  Polatkin  demanded. 
"All  I  says  is  the  boy  is  ambitious,  Scheikowitz  — 
which,  if  you  don't  think  it's  ambitious  a  feller  tries 
to  sell  goods  to  Joseph  Kammerman,  Scheikowitz, 
what  is  it  then?" 

"There's  worser  people  to  sell  goods  to  as  Joseph 
Kammerman,  Polatkin,  which  he  is  a  millionaire 
concern,  understand  me,"  Scheikowitz  declared; 
"and  you  could  take  it  from  me,  Polatkin,  even 
if  you  would  accuse  him  he  is  ambitious  oder  not, 
that  boy  always  got  idees  to  do  big  things  —  and 
he  works  hard  till  he  lands  'em.  So  if  you  want  to 
call  that  ambitious,  Polatkin,  go  ahead  and  do  so. 
When  a  loafer  knocks  it's  a  boost  every  time." 

With  this  ultimatum  Scheikowitz  followed  his 
junior  partner  to  the  rear  of  the  loft,  where  Elkan 
regarded  with  a  critical  eye  the  labors  of  his  cutting- 
room  staff. 

"TVtt,  Elkan,"  Scheikowitz  asked,  "what's  biting 
you  now?" 


i5o  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Elkan  winked  significantly  —  and  a  moment  later 
he  tapped  an  assistant  cutter  on  the  shoulder. 

"Max,"  he  said,  "do  you  got  maybe  a  grudge 
against  that  piece  of  goods,  the  way  you  are  slam- 
ming it  round?" 

The  assistant  cutter  smiled  in  an  embarrassed 
fashion. 

"The  fact  is,"  he  said  apologetically,  "I  wasn't 
thinking  about  them  goods  at  all.  When  you  are 
laying  out  goods  for  cutting,  Mr.  Lubliner,  you 
don't  got  to  think  much  —  especially  pastel  shades. 5>A 

"Pastel  shades?"  Elkan  repeated. 

"That's  what  I  said,"  the  cutter  replied.  "Mit 
colors  like  reds  and  greens,  which  they  are  hitting 
you  right  in  the  face,  so  to  speak,  you  couldn't 
get  your  mind  off  of  'em  at  all;  but  pastel  shades, 
that's  something  else  again.  They  quiet  you  like 
smoking  a  cigarette." 

Elkan  turned  to  his  partner  with  a  shrug. 

"When  I  was  working  by  B.  Cans,"  the  cutter 
went  on,  "I  am  laying  out  a  piece  of  old  gold  crepe 
mit  a  silver-thread  border,  and  I  assure  you,  Mr. 
Lubliner,  it  has  an  effect  on  me  like  some  one  would 
give  me  a  glass  of  schnapps  already." 

"Stiegen,  Max,"  said  Elkan,  moving  away,  "you 
got  too  much  to  say  for  yourself." 

Max  nodded  resignedly  and  continued  the  spread- 
ing of  the  goods  on  the  cutting  table,  while  Elkan 
and  Scheikowitz  walked  out  of  the  room. 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  151 

"That's  the  new  feller  I  was  telling  you  about," 
Elkan  said.  "Meshugganeh  Max  Merech  they  call 
him." 

"Meshugga  he  may  be,"  Scheikowitz  replied, 
"but  just  the  same  he's  got  a  couple  of  good  idees 
also,  Elkan.  Only  this  morning  he  makes  Redman 
the  designer  pretty  near  crazy  when  he  says  that  the 
blue  soutache  on  that  new  style  2060  kills  the  blue 
in  the  yoke,  y'understand;  and  he  was  right  too, 
Elkan.  Polatkin  and  me  made  Redman  change  it 


over." 


Elkan  shrugged  again  as  he  put  on  his  hat  and 
coat  preparatory  to  going  home. 

"A  lot  our  class  of  trade  worries  about  such 
things!"  he  exclaimed.  "So  far  as  they  are  con- 
cerned the  soutache  could  be  crimson  and  the  yoke 
green,  and  if  the  price  was  right  they'd  buy  it  any- 
how." 

"Don't  you  fool  yourself,  Elkan,"  Scheikowitz 
said  while  Elkan  rang  for  the  elevator.  "The  price 
is  never  right  if  the  workmanship  ain't  good." 


That  Elkan  Lubliner's  progress  in  business  had 
not  kept  pace  with  his  social  achievements  was  a 
source  of  much  disappointment  to  both  Mrs.  Lubliner 
and  himself;  for  though  the  firm  of  Polatkin, 
Scheikowitz  &  Company  was  still  rated  seventy- 
five  thousand  dollars  to  one  hundred  thousand 


152  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

dollars  —  credit  good  —  Elkan  and  Mrs.  Lubliner 
moved  in  the  social  orbit  of  no  less  a  personage 
than  of  Max  Koblin,  the  Raincoat  King,  whose 
credit  soared  triumphantly  among  the  A's  and  B's  of 
old-established  commission  houses. 

Indeed  it  was  a  party  at  Max  Koblin's  house  that 
evening  which  caused  Elkan  to  leave  his  place  of 
business  at  half-past  five;  and  when  Mrs.  Lubliner 
and  he  sallied  forth  from  the  gilt  and  porphyry 
hallway  of  their  apartment  dwelling  they  were 
fittingly  arrayed  to  meet  Max's  guests,  none  of  whom 
catered  to  the  popular-price  trade  of  Polatkin, 
Scheikowitz  &  Company. 

"Why  didn't  you  told  him  we  are  getting  next 
week  paid  off  for  five  thousand  dollars  a  second 
mortgage?"  Yetta  said,  continuing  a  conversation 
begun  at  dinner  that  evening." 

"I  did  told  him,"  Elkan  insisted;  "but  what  is 
the  use  talking  to  a  couple  of  old-timers  like  them?" 

Yetta  sniffed  contemptuously  with  the  impatience 
of  youth  at  the  foibles  of  senility,  as  exemplified 
by  the  doddering  Philip  Scheikowitz,  aged  forty-five, 
and  the  valetudinarian  Marcus  Polatkin,  whose  hair, 
albeit  unfrosted,  had  been  blighted  and  in  part 
swept  away  by  the  vicissitudes  of  forty-two  win- 
ters. 

"You  can't  learn  an  old  dawg  young  tricks," 
Elkan  declared,  "and  we  might  just  as  well  make 
up  our  minds  to  it,  Yetta,  we  would  never  compete 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  153 

with  such  highgradc  concerns  like  B.  Cans  oder 
Schwefel  &  Zucker. 

They  walked  over  two  blocks  in  silence  and  then 
Elkan  broke  out  anew. 

"I  tell  you,"  he  said,  "I  am  sick  and  tired  of  it. 
B.  Cans  talks  all  the  time  about  selling  this  big 
Macher  and  that  big  Macher,  and  him  and  Mr. 
Schwefel  gets  telling  about  what  a  millionaire  like 
Kammerman  says  to  him  the  other  day,  or  what 
he  says  to  Mandelberger,  of  Chicago,  y'understand — 
and  I  couldn't  say  nothing!  If  I  would  commence 
to  tell  'em  what  I  says  to  such  customers  of  ours 
like  One-Eye  Feigenbaum  oder  H.  Margonin,  of 
Bridgetown,  understand  me,  they  would  laugh  me 
in  my  face  yet." 

Yetta  pressed  his  arm  consolingly  as  they  ascended 
the  stoop  of  Max  Kolbin's  house  on  Mount  Morris 
Park  West,  and  two  minutes  later  they  entered 
the  front  parlour  of  that  luxurious  residence. 

"And  do  you  know  what  he  says  to  me?"  a  pene- 
trating barytone  voice  announced  as  they  came  in. 
"  He  says  to  me,  *  Benson,'  he  says, '  I've  been  putting 
on  musical  shows  now  for  fifteen  years,  and  an  idee 
like  that  comes  from  a  genius  already.  There's  a 
fortune  in  it!'" 

At  this  juncture  Mrs.  Koblin  noted  the  arrival 
of  the  last  of  her  guests. 

"Why,  hello,  Yetta!"  she  cried,  rising  to  her  feet. 
"Ain't  you  fashionable  getting  here  so  late?" 


154  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

She  kissed  Yetta  and  held  out  a  hand  to  Elkan 
as  she  spoke. 

"Ain't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  Elkan,  keeping 
Yetta's  dinner  waiting  because  you  claim  you're 
so  busy  downtown?"  she  went  on.  "I  guess  you 
know  everybody  here  except  Mr.  Benson." 

She  nodded  toward  the  promulgator  of  Heaven- 
born  ideas,  who  bowed  solemnly. 

"Pleased  to  meet  you,  Mister " 

"Lubliner,"  Elkan  said. 

"Mister  Lubliner,"  Benson  repeated,  passing  his 
begemmed  fingers  through  a  shock  of  black,  curly 
hair.  "And  the  long  and  short  of  it  is,"  he  con- 
tinued, addressing  the  company,  "to-morrow  I'm 
getting  a  scenario  along  them  lines  I  just  indicated 
to  you  from  one  of  the  highest-grade  fellers  that's 
writing." 

Here  ensued  a  pause,  during  which  B.  Cans 
searched  his  mind  for  an  anecdote  concerning  some 
retailer  of  sufficiently  good  financial  standing,  while 
Joseph  Schwefel,  of  Schwefel  &  Zucker,  cleared  his 
throat  preparatory  to  launching  a  verbatim  report 
of  a  conversation  between  himself  and  a  buyer  for 
one  of  the  most  exclusive  costume  houses  on  Fifth 
Avenue;  but  even  as  Schwefel  rounded  his  lips  to 
enunciate  an  introductory  "Er,"  Benson  obtained 
a  fresh  start. 

"Now  you  remember  'The  Diners  Out,'  Ryan  & 
Bernbaum's  production  last  season?"  he  said, 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  155 

addressing  Elkan.  "In  that  show  they  had  an  idee 
like  this :  Eight  ponies  is  let  down  from  the  flies  — 
see?  —  and  George  DeFrees  makes  his  entrance 
in  a  practical  airyoplane  —  I  think  it  was  George 
DeFrees  was  working  for  Ryan  &  Bernbaum  last 
year,  or  was  it  Sammy  Potter?" 

At  this  point  he  screwed  up  his  face  and  leaning 
his  elbow  on  the  arm  of  his  chair  he  placed  four 
fingers  on  his  forehead  in  the  attitude  known  the- 
atrically as  Business  of  Deep  Consideration. 

"No,"  he  said  at  last  —  "it  was  George  DeFrees. 
George  jumps  out  of  the  airyoplane  and  says :  'They 
followed  me  to  earth,  I  see.' ' 

Benson  raised  his  eyebrows  at  the  assembled 
guests. 

"Angels!  "-he  announced.  "Get  the  idee?  'They 
followed  me  to  earth,  I  see.'  Cue.  And  then  he 
sings  the  song  hit  of  the  show:  'Come  Take  a  Ride 
in  My  Airyoplane.'  ' 

B.  Gans  shuffled  his  feet  uneasily  and  Joseph 
Schwefel  pulled  down  his  waistcoat.  As  manufac- 
turers of  highgrade  garments  they  had  accompanied 
more  than  one  customer  to  the  entertainment 
described  by  Benson;  but  to  Elkan  the  term  "ponies" 
admitted  of  only  one  meaning,  and  this  conver- 
sational arabesque  of  flies,  little  horses,  aeroplanes 
and  George  DeFrees  made  him  fairly  dizzy. 

"And,"  M.  Sidney  Benson  said  before  B.  Gans 
could  head  him  off,  "just  that  there  entrance  boomed 


156  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

the  show.  Ryan  &  Bernbaum  up  to  date  clears  a 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  dollars  over  and  above 
all  expenses." 

"Better  as  the  garment  business!"  Max  Koblin 
commented  —  and  B.  Cans  nodded  and  yawned. 

"Ain't  we  going  to  have  no  pinocle?"  he  asked. 
Max  rose  and  threw  open  the  sliding  doors  leading 
to  the  dining  room,  where  cards  and  chips  were  in 
readiness. 

"Will  you  join  us,  Mr.  Benson?"  he  asked. 

"That'll  make  five  with  Mr.  Lubliner,"  Benson 
replied;  "so  supposing  you,  Cans  and  Schwefel  go 
ahead,  and  Mr.  Lubliner  and  me  will  join  you  later. 
Otherwise  you  would  got  to  deal  two  of  us  out  — 
which  it  makes  a  pretty  slow  game  that  way." 

"Just  as  you  like,"  Max  said;  and  after  Mrs. 
Koblin  and  Yetta  had  retired  abovestairs  to  view 
the  most  recent  accession  to  Mrs.  Koblin's  wardrobe, 
Benson  pulled  up  the  points  of  his  high  collar  and 
adjusted  his  black  stock  necktie.  Then  he  lit  a  fresh 
cigar  and  prepared  to  lay  bare  to  Elkan  the  arcana 
of  the  theatrical  business. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  said,  "the  show  business 
is  a  business  like  any  other  business.  It  ain't  like 
you  got  an  idee  it  is  —  opening  wine  for  a  bunch 
of  chickens,  understand  me,  and  running  round  the 
streets  till  all  hours  of  the  morning." 

"I  never  got  no  such  idee,"  Elkan  protested. 

"You  ain't,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  Benson  continued, 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  157 

"because  it's  very  evidence  to  me  that  you  don't 
know  nothing  about  it;  but  there's  a  whole  lot  of 
people  got  that  idee  anyhow,  y'understand;  and  what 
I  am  always  trying  to  tell  everybody  is  that  the 
show  business  is  like  the  garment  business  oder 
the  drygoods  business  —  a  business  for  a  business 
man,  not  a  loafer!" 

Elkan  made  an  inarticulate  noise  which  Benson 
took  to  be  an  expression  of  interest  and  encourage- 
ment. 

"At  the  same  time  art  has  got  a  whole  lot  to  do 
with  it,"  he  went  on  —  "art  and  idees;  and  when 
you  take  a  feller  like  Ryan,  which  he  could  write 
a  show,  write  the  music,  put  it  on  and  play  the  lead- 
ing part  all  by  himself,  y'understand,  and  a  feller 
like  Bernbaum,  which  used  to  was  Miller,  Bernbaum 
&  Company  in  the  pants  business  —  you  got  there 
an  ideel  combination!" 

Elkan  nodded  and  looked  helplessly  round  him 
at  the  Circassian  walnut,  of  which  half  a  forestful 
had  gone  to  make  up  the  furnishings  of  Koblin's 
front  parlor. 

"But,"  Benson  said  emphatically,  "you  take  me, 
for  instance  —  and  what  was  I?" 

He  told  off  his  former  occupations  with  the  index 
finger  of  his  right  hand  on  each  digit  of  his  left. 

"First  I  was  a  salesman;  second  I  was  for  myself 
in  the  infants'  wear  business;  third  I  was  noch 
cinmal  a  salesman.  Then  I  become  an  actor,  because 


158  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

everybody  knows  my  act,  which  I  called  it  '  Your 
Old  Friend  Maslowsky.'  For  four  years  I  played 
all  the  first-class  vaudeville  circuits  here  and  on  the 
other  side  in  England.  But  though  I  made  good 
money,  Mr.  Lubliner,  the  real  big  money  is  in  the 
producing  end." 

"Huh-huh!"  Elkan  ejaculated. 

"So  that's  the  way  it  is  with  me,  Mr.  Lubliner," 
Benson  continued.  "I  am  just  like  Ryan  &  Bern- 
baum,  only  instead  of  two  partners  there  is  only 
just  one;  which  I  got  the  art,  the  idees  and  the 
business  ability  all  in  myself!" 

"That  must  make  it  very  handy  for  you,"  Elkan 
commented. 

"Handy  ain't  no  name  for  it,"  Benson  replied. 
"It's  something  you  don't  see  nowheres  else  in  the 
show  business;  but  I'll  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr. 
Lubliner  —  the  work  is  too  much  for  me!" 

"Why  don't  you  get  a  partner?"  Elkan  asked. 

Benson  made  a  circular  gesture  with  his  right  hand. 

"I  could  get  lots  of  partners  with  big  money, 
Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  said,  "but  why  should  I  divide 
my  profits?  Am  I  right  or  wrong?" 

"Well,  that  depends  how  you  are  looking  at  it," 
Elkan  said. 

"I  am  looking  at  it  from  the  view  of  a  business 
man,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  Benson  rejoined.  "Here  I  got 
a  proposition  which  I  am  going  to  put  on  —  a  show 
of  idees  —  a  big  production,  understand  me;  which 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  159 

if  Ryan  &  Bernbaum  makes  from  their  *  Diners  Out' 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars,  verstehst  du,  I  could 
easily  make  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand!  And 
yet,  Mr.  Lubliner,  all  I  invest  is  five  thousand  dollars 
and  five  thousand  more  which  I  am  making  a  loan 
at  a  bank." 

"Which  bank?"  Elkan  asked  — -  so  quickly  that 
Benson  almost  jumped  in  his  seat. 

"I  —  I  didn't  decide  which  bank  yet,"  he  replied. 
"You  see,  Mr.  Lubliner,  I  got  accounts  in  three 
banks.  First  I  belonged  to  the  Fifteenth  National 
Bank.  Then  they  begged  me  I  should  go  in  the 
Minuit  National  Bank.  All  right.  I  went  in  the 
Minuit  National  Bank.  H'afterward  Sam  Feder 
comes  to  me  and  says:  ' Benson,'  he  says,  cyou' 
are  an  old  friend  from  mine,'  he  says.  'Why  do 
you  bother  yourself  you  should  go  into  this  bank 
and  that  bank?'  he  says.  'Why  don't  you  come 
to  my  bank?'  he  says,  'and  I  would  give  you  all 
the  money  you  want.'  So  you  see,  Mr.  Lubliner, 
it  is  immaterial  to  me  which  bank  I  get  my  money 
from." 

Again  he  passed  his  jewelled  fingers  through  his  hair. 

"No,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  announced  after  a  pause, 
"my  own  brother  even  I  wouldn't  give  a  look-in." 

Elkan  made  no  reply.  As  a  result  of  Benson's 
gesture  he  was  busy  estimating  the  value  of  eight 
and  a  quarter  carats  at  eighty-seven  dollars  and 
fifty  cents  a  carat. 


160  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Because,"  Benson  continued,  "the  profits  is 
something  you  could  really  call  enormous!  If  you 
got  the  time  I  would  like  to  show  you  a  few  fig- 


ures." 


"I  got  all  evening,"  Elkan  answered,  whereat 
Benson  pulled  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  a  fountain 
pen  ornamented  with  gold  filigree. 

"First,"  he  said,  "is  the  costumes." 

And  therewith  he  plunged  into  a  maze  of  calcu- 
lation that  lasted  for  nearly  an  hour.  Moreover, 
at  the  end  of  that  period  he  entered  into  a  new 
series  of  figures,  tending  to  show  that  by  the  invest- 
ment of  an  additional  five  thousand  dollars  the 
profits  could  be  increased  seventy-five  per  cent. 

"But  I'm  satisfied  to  invest  my  ten  thousand," 
he  said,  "because  five  thousand  is  my  own  and  the 
other  five  thousand  I  could  get  easy  from  the 
Kosciuscko  Bank,  whereas  the  additional  five  thou- 
sand I  must  try  to  interest  somebody  he  should 
invest  it  with  me.  And  so  far  as  that  goes  I  wouldn't 
bother  myself  at  all." 

"You're  dead  right,"  Elkan  said  by  way  of  making 
himself  agreeable,  whereat  Benson  grew  crimson 
with  chagrin. 

"Sure  I'm  dead  right,"  he  said;  "and  if  you 
and  Mrs.  Lubliner  would  come  down  to  my  office 
in  the  Siddons  Theatre  Building  to-morrow  night, 
eight  o'clock,  I  would  send  one  of  my  associates 
round  with  you  and  he  will  get  you  tickets  for  the 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  161 

*  Diners  Out,'  understand  me;  and  then  you  would 
see  for  yourself  what  a  big  house  they  got  there. 
Even  on  Monday  night  they  turn  'em  away!" 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,"  Elkan  replied.  "Pm 
sure  Mrs.  Lubliner  and  me  would  enjoy  it  very 
much." 

"I'm  sorry  for  you  if  you  wouldn't,"  Benson 
retorted;  "and  that  there  c Diners  Out'  ain't  a  marker 
to  the  show  I'm  putting  on,  Mr.  Lubliner  —  which 
you  can  see  for  yourself,  a  business  proposition, 
which  pans  out  pretty  near  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars  on  a  fifteen-thousand-dollar  investment,  is 
got  to  be  right  up  to  the  mark.  Ain't  it  ? " 

"I  thought  you  said  ten  thousand  dollars  was  the 
investment,"  Elkan  remarked. 

"I  did,"  Benson  replied  with  some  heat;  "but 
if  some  one  comes  along  and  wants  to  invest  the 
additional  five  thousand  dollars  I  wouldn't  turn 
him  down,  Mr.  Lubliner." 

He  rose  to  his  feet  to  join  the  pinocle  players  in 
the  dining  room. 

"  So  I  hope  you  enjoy  the  show  to-morrow  night," 
he  added  as  he  strolled  away. 


From  six  to  eight  every  evening  Max  Merech 
underwent  a  gradual  transformation,  for  six  o'clock 
was  the  closing  hour  at  Polatkin,  Scheikowitz 
&  Company's  establishment,  while  eight  marked 


i62  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

the  advent  of  the  Sarasate  Trio  at  the  Cafe 
Roman,  on  Delancey  Street.  Thus,  at  six,  Max 
Merech  was  an  assistant  cutter;  and,  indeed,  until 
after  he  ate  his  supper  he  still  bore  the  outward 
appearance  of  an  assistant  cutter,  though  inwardly 
he  felt  a  premonitory  glow.  After  half-past  seven, 
however,  he  buttoned  on  a  low,  turned-down  collar 
with  its  concomitant  broad  Windsor  tie,  and  there- 
with he  assumed  his  real  character  —  that  of  a 
dilettante. 

At  the  Cafe  Roman  each  evening  he  specialized 
on  music;  but  with  the  spirit  of  the  true  dilettante 
he  neglected  no  one  of  the  rest  of  the  arts,  and  was 
ever  to  be  found  at  the  table  next  to  the  piano,  a 
warm  advocate  of  the  latest  movement  in  painting 
and  literature,  as  well  as  an  appreciative  listener 
to  the  ultramodern  music  discoursed  by  the  Sarasate 
Trio. 

"If  that  ain't  a  winner  I  ain't  no  judge!"  he  said 
to  Boris  Volkovisk,  the  pianist,  on  the  evening  of 
the  conversation  with  Elkan  set  forth  above.  He 
referred  to  a  violin  sonata  of  Boris'  own  composition 
which  the  latter  and  Jacob  Rekower,  the  violinist, 
had  just  concluded. 

Boris  smiled  and  wiped  away  the  perspiration 
from  his  bulging  forehead,  for  the  third  movement 
of  the  sonata,  marked  in  the  score  Allegro  con  fuoco, 
had  taxed  even  the  technic  of  its  composer. 

"A  winner  of  what?"   Boris   asked  —  "money? 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  163 

Because  supposing  a  miracle  happens  that  somebody 
would  publish  it  nobody  buys  it." 

Max  nodded  his  head  slowly  in  sympathetic 
acquiescence. 

"But  anyhow  you  ain't  so  bad  off  like  some  com- 
posers," he  said.  "You've  anyhow  got  a  good 
musician  to  play  your  stuff  for  you." 

He  smiled  at  Jacob  Rekower,  who  plunged  his 
hands  into  his  trousers  pockets  and  shrugged  depre- 
catingly. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Rekower  said;  "and  if  we  play 
too  much  good  stuff  Marculescu  raises  the  devil 
with  us  we  should  play  more  popular  music." 

He  spat  out  the  words  "popular  music"  with  an 
emphasis  that  made  a  Tarrok  player  at  the  next 
table  jump  in  his  seat. 

"Nu,"  said  the  latter  as  the  deal  passed,  "what 
is  the  matter  with  popular  music?  If  it  wouldn't 
be  for  writing  popular  music,  understand  me,  many 
a  decent,  respectable  composer  would  got  to  starve!" 

He  turned  his  chair  round  and  abandoned  the  card 
game  the  better  to  air  his  views  on  popular  music. 

"Furthermore,"  he  said,  "I  know  a  young  feller 
by  the  name  Milton  Jassy  which  last  year  he  makes 
two  thousand  dollars  already  from  syncopating 
Had  gadyo  and  calling  it  the  "Wildcat  Rag,"  and  this 
year  he  is  writing  the  music  for  a  new  show  and 
I  bet  yer  the  least  he  makes  out  of  it  is  five  thousand 
dollars." 


i64  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Yow!     Five    thousand    dollars!"    Merech    ex- 
claimed.    "Such  people  you  hear  about,  but  you 


oser  see  'em." 


"Don't  you?"  said  the  Tarrok  player,  drawing  a 
cardcase  from  his  breast  pocket.  "Well,  you  see 
one  now." 

He  laid  face  upward  on  the  table  a  card  which  read : 


MILTON    JASSY 

SIDDONS  THEATRE  BUILDING 

ROOM  I4OO 


LAZY  DAISY  EDDIE 

WILDCAT  RAG  ALL  ABOARD  FOR  SLEEPYTOWN 


For  a  brief  interval  Volkovisk,  Rekower,  and 
Merech  regarded  Jassy's  card  in  silence. 

"Well,"  Merech  said  at  last,  "what  of  it?" 

Jassy  shrugged  and  waved  his  hand  significantly. 

"Nothing  of  it,"  he  said,  "only  your  friend  there 
is  knocking  popular  music;  and  though  I  admit 
that  I  didn't  got  to  go  to  the  Wiener  conservatory 
so  as  I  could  write  popular  music  exactly,  y'under- 
stand,  still  I  could  write  sonatas  and  trios  and 
quartets  and  even  concert!  and  symphonies  till  I 
am  black  in  the  face  already  and  I  couldn't  pay 
my  laundry  bill  even. " 

For  answer  Volkovisk  turned  to  the  piano  and 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  165 

seized  from  the  pile  of  music  a  blue-covered  volume. 
It  was  the  violin  sonata  of  Richard  Strauss,  and 
handing  the  violin  part  to  Rekower  he  seated  himself 
on  the  stool.  Then  with  a  premonitory  nod  to 
Rekower  he  struck  the  opening  chords,  and  for  more 
than  ten  minutes  Jassy  and  Merech  sat  motionless 
until  the  first  movement  was  finished. 

"When  Strauss  wrote  that  he  could  oser  pay  his 
laundry  bill  either,"  Volkovisk  said,  rising  from  the 
stool.  He  sat  down  wearily  at  the  table  and  lit 
a  cigarette. 

"So  you  see,"  he  began,  "Richard  Strauss " 

"Richard  Strauss  nothing!"  cried  an  angry  voice 
at  his  elbow.  "If  you  want  to  practise,  practise 
at  home.  I  pay  you  here  to  play  for  my  customers, 
not  for  yourselves,  Volkovisk;  and  once  and  for  all 
I  am  telling  you  you  should  cut  out  this  nonsense 
and  spiel  a  little  music  once  in  a  while." 

It  was  the  proprietor,  Marculescu,  who  spoke, 
and  Volkovisk  immediately  seated  himself  at  the 
piano.  This  time  he  took  from  the  pile  of  music 
three  small  sheets,  one  of  which  he  placed  on  the 
reading  desk  and  the  other  on  Rekower's  violin 
stand.  After  handing  the  other  sheet  to  the  'cellist 
he  plunged  into  a  furious  rendition  of  "Wildcat  Rag." 

In  the  front  part  of  the  cafe  a  group  of  men  and 
women,  whose  clothes  and  manners  proclaimed 
them  to  be  slummers  from  the  upper  West  Side, 
broke  into  noisy  applause  as  the  vulgar  composition 


166  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

came  to  an  end,  and  in  the  midst  of  their  shouting 
and  stamping  Jassy  rose  trembling  from  his  seat. 
He  slunk  between  tables  to  the  door,  while  Volko- 
visk  began  a  repetition  of  the  number,  and  it  was 
not  until  he  had  turned  the  corner  of  the  street  and 
the  melody  had  ceased  to  sound  in  his  ears  that  he 
slackened  his  pace.  When  he  did  so,  however,  a 
friendly  hand  fell  on  his  shoulder  and  he  turned  to 
find  Max  Merech  close  behind  him. 

"Nu,  Mr.  Jassy,"  Max  said,  "you  shouldn't  be 
so  broke  up  because  you  couldn't  write  so  good  as 
Richard  Strauss." 

Jassy  stood  still  and  looked  Max  squarely  in  the 
eye. 

"That's  just  the  point,"  he  said  in  hollow  tones. 
"Might  I  could  if  I  tried;  but  I  am  such  an  Epikouros 
that  I  don't  want  to  try.  I  would  sooner  make 
money  out  of  rubbish  than  be  an  artist  like  Volko- 
visk." 

Max  shrugged  and  elevated  his  eyebrows. 

"A  man  must  got  to  live,"  he  said  as  he  seized 
Jassy's  arm  and  began  gently  to  propel  him  back 
to  the  Cafe  Roman. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Jassy  said;  "but  living  ain't  all 
having  good  clothes  to  wear  and  good  food  to  eat. 
Living  for  an  artist  like  Volkovisk  is  composing 
music  worthy  of  an  artist.  Aber  what  do  I  do, 
Mister " 

"Merech,"  Max  said. 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  167 

"What  do  I  do,  Mr.  Merech?"  Jassy  continued. 
"I  am  all  the  time  throwing  away  my  art  in  the 
streets  with  this  rotten  stuff  I  am  composing." 


"Well,  I  tell  you,"  Max  said  after  they  had 
reentered  the  cafe  and  had  seated  themselves  at 
a  table  remote  from  the  piano,  "composing  music 
is  like  manufacturing  garments,  Mr.  Jassy.  Some 
one  must  got  to  cater  to  the  popular-price  trade 
and  only  a  few  manufacturers  gets  to  the  point 
where  they  make  up  a  highgrade  line  for  the  ex- 
clusive retailers.  Ain't  it?" 

Jassy  nodded  as  the  waiter  brought  the  cups  of 
coffee. 

"Now  you  take  me,  for  instance,"  Max  continued. 
"Once  I  worked  by  B.  Cans,  which  I  assure  you, 
Mr.  Jassy,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  handle  the  goods 
in  that  place.  What  an  elegant  line  of  silks  and 
embroidery  they  got  it  there!  Believe  me,  Mr. 
Jassy,  every  day  I  went  to  work  there  like  I  would 
be  going  to  a  wedding  already,  such  a  beautiful 
goods  they  made  it!  Aber  now  I  am  working  by 
a  popular-price  concern,  Mr.  Jassy,  which,  you  could 
take  it  from  me,  the  colors  them  people  puts  to- 
gether in  one  garment  gives  me  the  indigestion 
already!" 

Again  Jassy  nodded  sympathetically. 

"And  why  did  I  make  a  change?"  Max  went  on. 


168  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Because  them  people  pays  me  seven  dollars  a  week 
more  as  B.  Cans,  Mr.  Jassy;  and  though  art  is  art, 
understand  me,  seven  dollars  a  week  ain't  to  be 
coughed  at  neither." 

For  a  few  minutes  Jassy  sipped  his  coffee  in 
silence. 

"That's  all  right,  too,"  he  said;  "but  with  gar- 
ments you  could  make  just  so  much  money  manu- 
facturing a  highgrade  line  as  you  could  if  you  are 
making  a  popular-price  line." 

Max  nodded  sapiently. 

"I  give  you  right  there,"  he  agreed,  "and  that's 
because  the  manufacturer  of  the  highgrade  line 
does  business  in  the  same  way  as  the  popular-price 
concern.  Aber  you  take  the  composer  of  highgrade 
music  and  all  he  does  is  compose.  He's  too  proud 
to  poosh  it,  Mr.  Jassy;  whereas  the  feller  what 
composes  popular  music  he's  just  the  same  like 
the  feller  what  manufacturers  a  popular-price  line 
of  garments  —  he  not  only  manufacturers  his  line 
but  he  pooshes  it  till  he  gets  a  market  for  it." 

"There  ain't  no  market  for  a  highclass  line  of 
music,"  Jassy  said  hopelessly. 

"Why  ain't  there?"  Max  demanded.  "Did  you 
ever  try  to  market  a  symphony?  '  Did  Volkovisk 
ever  try  to  get  anybody  with  money  interested  in 
his  stuff?  No,  sirree,  sir!  All  that  feller  does  is 
to  play  it  to  a  lot  of  Schnorrers  like  me,  which  no 
matter  how  much  we  like  his  work  we  couldn't 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  169 

help  him  none.  Now  you  take  your  own  case, 
for  instance.  You  told  us  a  few  minutes  ago  you 
are  writing  some  music  for  a  new  show.  Now,  if 
you  wouldn't  mind  my  asking,  who  is  putting  in 
the  capital  for  that  show?" 

"Well,"  Jassy  replied,  "a  feller  called  Benson  is 
putting  it  in  and  part  of  the  capital  is  from  his  own 
money  and  the  rest  he  borrows." 

"Just  like  a  new  beginner  would  do  in  the  garment 
business,"  Max  commented.  "  Aber  who  does  he 
borrow  it  from?  A  bank  maybe  —  what?" 

"Some  he  gets  from  a  bank,"  Jassy  replied,  "and 
the  rest  is  he  trying  to  raise  elsewheres.  To-night 
he  tells  me  he  is  getting  an  introduction  to  a  business 
man  which  he  hopes  to  lend  from  him  five  oder  ten 
thousand  dollars." 

"Five  oder  ten  thousand  dollars!"  Max  cried. 
"  Shema  beni.  For  five  thousand  dollars  Volkovisk 
could  publish  all  the  music  he  ever  wrote  and  give 
a  whole  lot  of  recitals  in  the  bargain.  One  thousand 
dollars  would  be  enough  even." 

"That  I  wouldn't  deny  at  all,"  Jassy  rejoined. 
"  Aber  who  would  you  find  stands  willing  he  should 
invest  in  Volkovisk's  music  a  thousand  dollars? 
Would  he  ever  get  back  his  thousand  dollars  even, 
let  alone  any  profits?" 

"It's  a  speculation,  I  admit,"  Max  commented; 
"but  you  take  Richard  Strauss,  for  instance,  and  if 
some  feller  would  staked  Strauss  to  a  thousand 


170  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

dollars  capital  when  he  needed  it,  understand  me, 
not  alone  he  would  got  his  money  back  but  if  we 
would  say,  for  example,  the  thousand  dollars  repre- 
sents a  ten-per-cent  interest  in  Strauss'  business, 
to-day  yet  the  feller  would  be  worth  his  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  because  everybody  knows  what  a  big  suc- 
cess Strauss  made.  Actually  the  feller  must 
got  orders  at  Jeast  six  months  ahead.  Why 
for  one  song  alone  they  pay  him  a  couple  thousand 
dollars!" 

"Well,"  Jassy  asked,  "if  you  feel  there's  such  a 
future  in  it  why  don't  you  raise  a  thousand  dollars 
and  finance  Volkovisk?" 

Max  laughed  aloud. 

"Me  —  I  couldn't  raise  nothing,"  he  said;  "aber 
you  —  you  are  feeling  sore  at  yourself  because 
you  are  writing  popular  stuff.  Here's  a  chance  for 
you  to  square  yourself  with  your  art.  Why  don't 
you  help  Volkovisk  out?  All  you  got  to  do  is  to 
find  out  who  is  loaning  this  here  Benson  the  ten 
thousand  dollars  and  get  him  to  stake  Volkovisk 
to  a  thousand." 

Jassy  tapped  the  table  with  his  fingers. 

"For  that  matter  I  could  say  the  same  thing  to 
you,"  he  declared.  "You  consider  Volkovisk's 
talent  so  high  as  a  business  proposition,  Merech, 
why  don't  you  get  some  business  man  interested  — 
one  of  your  bosses,  for  instance?" 

He  rose  from  his  chair  as  he  spoke  and  placed 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  171 

ten  cents  on  the  table  as  his  share  of  the  evening's 
expenses. 

"Think  it  over,"  he  said;  and  long  after  he  had 
closed  the  door  behind  him  Max  sat  still  with  his  hands 
in  his  trousers  pocket  and  pondered  the  suggestion. 

"After  all,"  he  mused  as  Marculescu  began  to 
turn  out  the  lights  one  by  one,  "why  shouldn't  I  — 
the  very  first  thing  in  the  morning?" 

It  was  not,  however,  until  Polatkin  and  Scheiko- 
witz  had  gone  out  to  lunch  the  following  day,  leaving 
Elkan  alone  in  the  office,  that  Max  could  bring 
his  courage  to  the  sticking  point;  and  so  fearful  was 
he  that  he  might  regret  his  boldness  before  it  was 
too  late,  he  fairly  ran  from  the  cutting  room  to  the 
office  and  delivered  his  preparatory  remarks  in  the 
outdoor  tones  of  a  political  spellbinder. 

"Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  cried,  "could  I  speak  to  you 
a  few  words  something?" 

Elkan  rose  and  slammed  the  door. 

"Say,  lookyhere,  Merech,"  he  said,  "if  you  want 
a  raise  don't  let  the  whole  factory  know  about  it, 
otherwise  we  would  be  pestered  to  death  here. 
Remember,  also,"  he  continued  as  he  sat  down 
again,  "you  are  only  working  for  us  a  few  weeks  — 
and  don't  go  so  quick  as  all  that." 

"What  d'ye  mean,  a  raise?"  Max  asked.  "I  ain't 
said  nothing  at  all  about  a  raise.  I  am  coming 
to  see  you  about  something  entirely  different 
already." 


172  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Elkan  looked  ostentatiously  at  his  watch. 

"I  ain't  got  too  much  time,  Merech,"  he  said. 

"Nobody's  got  too  much  time  when  it  comes 
to  fellers  asking  for  raises,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  Max 
retorted;  "aber  this  here  is  something  else  again, 
as  I  told  you." 

"Well,  'don't  beat  no  bushes  round,  Merech!" 
Elkan  cried  impatiently.  "What  is  it  you  want  from 
me?" 

"I  want  from  you  this,"  Max  began  huskily: 
"Might  you  know  Tschaikovsky  maybe  oder  Rimsky- 
Korsakoff." 

"Tschaikovsky  I  never  heard  of,"  Elkan  replied, 
"nor  the  other  concern  neither.  Must  be  new 
beginners  in  the  garment  business  —  ain't  it?" 

"They  never  was  in  the  garment  business,  so  far 
as  I  know,"  Max  continued;  "aber  they  made 
big  successes  even  if  they  wasn't,  because  all  the 
money  ain't  in  the  garment  business,  Mr.  Lubliner, 
and  Tschaikovsky  and  Rimsky-Korsakoff,  even  in 
the  old  country,  made  so  much  money  they  lived  in 
palaces  yet.  Once  when  I  was  a  boy  already, 
Tschaikovsky  comes  to  Minsk  and  they  got  up  a 
parade  for  him  —  such  a  big  Macher  he  was!" 

"I  don't  doubt  your  word  for  a  minute,  Merech; 
aber  what  is  all  this  got  to  do  mit  me?" 

"It  ain't  got  nothing  to  do  with  you,  Mr.  Lub- 
liner," Max  declared  —  "only  I  got  a  friend  by  the 
name  Boris  Volkovisk,  and  believe  me  or  not,  Mr. 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  173 

Lubliner,  in  some  respects  Tschaikovsky  and 
Rimsky-Korsakoff  could  learn  from  that  feller, 
because,  you  could  take  it  from  me,  Mr.  Lubliner, 
there's  some  passages  in  the  Fifth  Symphony,  under- 
stand me,  which  I  hate  to  say  it  you  could  call 
rotten!" 

Elkan  stirred  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about  at 
all,"  he  said. 

"I  am  talking  about  this,"  Max  replied;  and  there- 
with he  began  to  explain  to  Elkan  the  aspirations 
and  talent  of  Boris  Volkovisk  and  his  —  Max' — 
scheme  for  their  successful  development.  For  more 
than  half  an  hour  he  unfolded  a  plan  by  which 
one  thousand  dollars  might  be  judiciously  expended 
so  as  to  secure  the  maximum  benefit  to  Volkovisk's 
career  —  a  plan  that  during  the  preceding  two 
years  Volkovisk  and  he  had  thoroughly  discussed 
over  many  a  cup  of  coffee  in  Marculescu's  cafe. 
"And  so  you  see,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  concluded, 
"it's  a  plain  business  proposition;  and  if  you  was  to 
take  for  your  thousand  dollars,  say,  for  example, 
a  one-tenth  interest  in  the  business  Volkovisk 
expects  to  do,  understand  me,  you  would  get  a  big 
return  for  your  investment." 

Elkan  lit  a  cigar  and  puffed  away  reflectively 
before  speaking. 

"Nu"  he  said  at  last;  "so  that  is  what  you  wanted 
to  talk  to  me  about?" 


174  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Max  nodded. 

"Well,  then,  all  I  could  say  is,"  Elkan  went  on, 
"you  are  coming  to  the  wrong  shop.  A  business 
proposition  like  that  is  for  a  banker,  which  he  is 
got  so  much  money  he  don't  know  what  to  do  with 
it,  Merech." 

Max'  face  fell  and  he  turned  disconsolately  away. 

"At  the  same  time,  Max,"  Elkan  added,  "I  ain't 
feeling  sore  that  you  come  to  me  with  the  proposition, 
understand  me.  The  trouble  ain't  with  you  that  you 
got  such  an  idee,  Max;  the  trouble  is  with  me  that 
I  couldn't  see  it.  It's  like  a  feller  by  the  name  Dal- 
zell,  a  buyer  for  Kammerman's  store,  says  to  me 
this  morning.  'Lubliner,'  he  says,  'I  couldn't  afford 
to  take  no  chances  buying  highgrade  garments  from 
a  feller  that  is  used  to  making  a  popular-price 
line,'  he  says,  'because  no  matter  how  well  equipped 
your  factory  would  be  the  trouble  is  a  popular-price 
manufacturer  couldn't  think  big  enough  to  turn 
out  expensive  garments.  To  such  a  manufacturer 
goods  at  two  dollars  a  yard  is  the  limit,  and  goods 
at  ten  dollars  a  yard  he  couldn't  imagine  at  all. 
And  even  if  he  could  induce  himself  to  use  stuff 
at  ten  dollars  a  yard,  y'understand,  it  goes  against 
him  to  be  liberal  with  such  high-priced  goods,  so 
he  skimps  the  garment.'" 

He  blew  a  great  cloud  of  smoke  as  a  substitute 
for  a  sigh. 

"And   Dalzell   was   right,   Max,"   he  concluded. 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  175 

"You  couldn't  expect  that  a  garment  manufacturer 
like  me  is  going  to  got  such  big  idees  as  investing 
a  thousand  dollars  in  a  highgrade  scheme  like  yours. 
With  me  a  thousand  dollars  means  so  many  yards 
piece  goods,  so  many  sewing  machines  or  a  week's 
payroll;  aber  it  don't  mean  giving  a  musician  a 
show  he  should  compose  highgrade  music.  I  ain't 
educated  up  to  it,  Max;  so  I  wish  you  luck  that 
you  should  raise  the  money  somewheres  else." 


When  M.  Sidney  Benson  entered  his  office  in 
the  Siddons  Theatre  Building  late  that  after- 
noon he  found  Jassy  seated  at  his  desk  in  the 
mournful  contemplation  of  some  music  manuscript. 

"TVw,  Milton,"  Benson  cried,  "you  shouldn't 
look  so  rachmonos.  I  surely  think  I  got  'em  com- 
ing!" 

"You  think  you  got  'em  coming!"  Jassy  repeated 
with  bitter  emphasis.  "You  said  that  a  dozen 
times  already  —  and  always  the  feller  wasn't  so  big 
a  sucker  like  he  looked!" 

"That  was  because  I  didn't  work  it  right,"  Benson 
replied.  "This  time  I  am  making  out  to  do  the  feller 
a  favour  by  letting  him  in  on  the  show,  and  right  away 
he  becomes  interested.  His  name  is  Elkan  Lubliner, 
a  manufacturer  by  cloaks  and  suits,  and  to-night 
he  is  coming  down  with  his  wife  yet,  and  you  are 
going  to  take  'em  round  to  the  'Diners  Out.'" 


176  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"I  am  going  to  the  'Diners  Out*  mit  'em?"  Milton 
ejaculated  with  every  inflection  of  horror  and  dis- 
gust. 

"Sure!"  Benson  replied  cheerfully.  "Six  dollars 
it'll  cost  us,  because  Ryan  pretty  near  laughs  in  my 
face  when  I  asked  him  for  three  seats.  But  never 
mind,  Milton,  it'll  be  worth  the  money." 

"Will  it?"  Jassy  retorted.  "Well,  not  for  me, 
Mr.  Benson.  Why,  the  last  time  I  seen  that  show 
I  says  I  wouldn't  sit  through  it  again  for  a  hundred 
dollars." 

"A  hundred  dollars  is  a  lot  of  money,  Milton," 
Benson  said.  "  Aber  I  think  if  you  work  it  right 
you  will  get  a  hundred  times  a  hundred  dollars  before 
we  are  through,  on  account  I  really  got  this  feiler 
going.  So  you  should  listen  to  me  and  I  would  tell 
you  just  what  you  want  to  say  to  the  feller  between 
the  acts." 

Therewith  Benson  commenced  to  unfold  a  series 
of  "talking  points"  which  he  had  spent  the  entire 
day  in  formulating;  and,  as  he  proceeded,  Jassy's 
eyes  wandered  from  the  title  page  of  the  manuscript 
music  inscribed  "Opus  47  —  Trio  in  G  moll,"  and 
began  to  glow  in  sympathy  with  Benson's  well-laid 
plan. 

"There's  no  use  shilly-shallying,  Milton,"  Benson 
concluded.  "The  season  is  getting  late,  and  if  we're 
ever  going  to  put  on  that  show  now  is  the  time." 

Milton  nodded  eagerly. 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  177 

" Aber  why  don't  you  take  'em  to  the  show  your- 
self, Mr.  Benson?"  he  asked  hopefully.  "Because, 
not  to  jolly  you  at  all,  Mr.  Benson,  I  must  got  to 
say  it  you  are  a  wonderful  talker." 

Benson  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled  weakly. 

"I  am  a  wonderful  talker,  I  admit,"  he  agreed; 
"but  I  got  a  hard  face,  Milton,  whereas  you,  anyhow, 
look  honest.  So  you  should  meet  me  at  Hanley's 
afterward,  understand  me,  and  we  would  try  to 
close  the  deal  there  and  then." 

He  dug  his  hand  into  his  trousers  pocket  and 
produced  a  modest  roll  of  bills,  from  which  he  de- 
tached six  dollars. 

"Here  is  the  money,"  he  added,  "and  you  should 
be  here  to  meet  them  people  at  eight  o'clock  sharp." 

On  the  stroke  of  eight  Milton  Jassy  returned  to 
Benson's  office  in  the  Siddons  Theatre  Building  and 
again  seated  himself  at  his  desk  in  front  of  the  pile 
of  manuscript  music.  This  time,  however,  he  brushed 
aside  the  title  page  of  his  Opus  47  and  spread  out  an 
evening  paper  to  beguile  the  tedium  of  awaiting  Ben- 
son's "prospects."  Automatically  he  turned  to  the 
department  headed  Music  and  Musicians,  and  at  the 
top  of  the  column  his  eye  fell  on  the  following  item : 

Ferencz  Lanczhid,  the  Budapest  virtuoso,  will  be  the  soloist  at 
the  concert  this  evening  of  the  Philharmonic  Society.  He  will 
play  the  Tschaikovsky  Violin  Concerto,  Opus  3  5,  and  the  remain- 
der of  the  program  will  consist  of  Dvorak's  Symphony,  Aus  der 
Neucn  Welt,  and  the  ever-popular  Meistersinger  Overture. 


1 78  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Jassy  heaved  a  tremulous  sigh  as  he  concluded  the 
paragraph  and  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  while  in 
his  ears  sounded  the  adagio  passage  that  introduces 
the  first  movement  of  the  "New  World  Symphony." 
Simultaneously  the  occupant  of  the  next  office 
slammed  down  his  rolltop  desk  and  began  to  whistle 
a  lively  popular  melody.  It  was  "Wildcat  Rag," 
and  Milton  struck  the  outspread  newspaper  with  his 
clenched  fist.  Then  rising  to  his  feet  he  gathered 
together  the  loose  pages  of  his  "Opus  47"  and  placed 
them  tenderly  in  a  leather  case  just  as  the  door 
opened  and  Elkan  and  Yetta  entered. 

"I  hope  we  ain't  late,"  Elkan  said. 

"Not  at  all,"  Milton  replied.  "This  is  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Lubliner  —  ain't  it?" 

As  he  drew  forward  a  chair  for  Yetta  he  saluted 
his  visitors  with  a  slight,  graceful  bow,  a  survival 
of  his  conservatory  days. 

"Sit  down,"  he  said;  "we  got  lots  and  lots  of 


time." 


"I  thought  the  show  started  at  a  quarter-past 
eight  —  ain't  it?"  Elkan  asked. 

"It  does  and  it  doesn't,"  Milton  replied  hesi- 
tatingly; "that  is  to  say,  some  shows  start  at  a  quar- 
ter-past eight  and  others  not  till  half-past  eight." 

"But  I  mean  this  here  'Diners  Out'  starts  at  a 
quarter-past  eight  —  ain't  it?"  Elkan  insisted. 

"  'The  Diners  Out!"'  Milton  exclaimed  as  though 
he  heard  the  name  for  the  first  time.  "Oh,  sure, 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  179 

the  'Diners  Out'  starts  at  a  quarter-past  eight,  and 
that's  just  what  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about." 

He  turned  to  Yetta  with  an  engaging  smile  which, 
with  his  black  hair  and  his  dark,  melancholy  eyes, 
completely  won  over  that  far  from  unimpressionable 
lady. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Lubliner,"  he  began,  "your  husband 
is  a  business  man  —  ain't  it?  And  if  some  one  comes 
to  him  and  says,  'Mr.  Lubliner,  I  got  here  two  gar- 
ments for  the  same  price  —  say,  for  example,  two 
dollars.  One  of  'em  is  made  of  cheap  material, 
aber  plenty  of  it  mit  cheap  embroidery  on  it,  under- 
stand me;  while  the  other  is  from  finest  silk  a  gar- 
ment —  not  much  of  it,  y'understand,  but  plain 
and  beautiful.'" 

"What  for  a  garment  could  you  got  for  two 
dollars?"  Elkan  asked  —  "especially  a  silk  gar- 
ment?" 

"He's  only  saying  for  example,  Elkan,"  Yetta 
interrupted. 

"Garments  I  am  only  using,  so  to  speak,"  Milton 
explained.  "What  I  really  mean  is:  You  got 
your  choice  to  go  to  a  popular  show  like  the  'Diners 
Out'  or  to  a  really  highgrade  show,  Mr.  Lubliner. 
So  I  leave  it  to  you,  Mr.  Lubliner.  Which  shall 
it  be?" 

Once  again  he  smiled  at  Yetta. 

"Why,  to  the  highgrade  show,  sure,"  Yetta 
replied,  and  she  seized  her  husband  by  the  arm. 


i8o  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Come  along,  Elkan!"  she  cried;  and  after  Milton 
had  secured  the  leather  portfolio  containing  his 
"Opus  47"  they  proceeded  immediately  to  the  ele- 
vator. 

"We  could  walk  over  there  from  here,"  Milton 
said  when  they  reached  the  sidewalk,  and  he  led  the 
way  across  town  toward  Carnegie  Hall. 

"What  for  a  show  is  this  we  are  going  to  see?" 
Elkan  asked.  "Also  a  musical  show?" 

Milton  nodded. 

"The  best  musical  show  there  is,"  he  declared. 
"Do  you  like  maybe  to  hear  good  music?" 

"I'm  crazy  about  it,"  Yetta  replied. 

"Symphonies,  concerti  and  such  things?"  Milton 
inquired. 

"Symphonies?"  Elkan  repeated.  "What  is  sym- 
phonies?" 

"I  couldn't  explain  it  to  you,"  Milton  said, 
"because  we  ain't  got  time;  aber  you  would  see  for 
yourself.  Only  one  thing  I  must  tell  you,  Mr. 
Lubliner  —  when  the  orchestra  plays  you  shouldn't 
speak  nothing  —  Mrs.  Lubliner  neither." 

"I  wouldn't  open  my  mouth  at  all,"  Elkan 
assured  him  solemnly;  and  a  few  minutes  later 
Milton  seated  himself  in  the  last  row  of  the  parterre 
at  Carnegie  Hall,  with  Elkan  and  Yetta  —  one  each 
side  of  him. 

"So  you  ain't  never  been  to  a  symphony  concert 
before?"  Milton  began,  leaning  toward  Elkan; 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  181 

and,  as  the  latter  shook  his  head,  a  short,  stout'person 
in  the  adjoining  seat  raised  his  eyebrows  involun- 
tarily. "Well,  you  got  a  big  pleasure  in  store  for 
you,"  Milton  went  on;  "and  another  thing  I  must 
got  to  tell  you :  Might  you  would  hear  some  pretty 
jumpy  music  which  you  would  want  to  keep  time 
to  mit  your  foot.  Don't  you  do  it!" 

Elkan's  neighbour  concealed  a  smile  with  one  hand, 
and  then,  he,  too,  turned  to  Elkan,  who  had  received 
Milton's  warning  with  a  sulky  frown. 

"You're  friend  is  right,"  he  said.  "People 
always  have  to  be  told  that  the  first  time  they  go 
to  a  symphony  concert;  and  the  next  time  they  go 
they  not  only  see  the  wisdom  of  such  advice,  but 
they  want  to  get  up  and  lick  the  man  that  does 
beat  time  with  his  foot." 

He  accompanied  his  remark  with  so  gracious  a 
smile  that  Elkan's  frown  immediately  relaxed. 

"A  new  beginner  couldn't  get  too  much  advice," 
he  said,  and  his  neighbour  leaned  farther  forward  and 
addressed  Milton. 

"You've  chosen  a  fine  program  to  introduce 
your  friend  to  good  music  with,"  he  said;  and  there- 
with began  a  lively  conversation  that  lasted  until 
a  round  of  applause  signalized  the  appearance  of 
the  conductor.  The  next  moment  he  raised  his 
baton  and  the  celli  began  to  sigh  the  mournful 
phrase  which  ushers  in  the  symphony.  Milton 
leaned  back  luxuriously  as  the  woodwind  commenced 


i82  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

the  next  phrase;  and  then,  while  the  introduction 
ended  with  a  sweeping  crescendo  and  the  tempo 
suddenly  increased,  Elkan  sat  up  and  his  eyes 
became  fixed  on  the  trombone  and  trumpet  players. 

He  maintained  this  attitude  throughout  the 
entire  first  movement,  and  it  was  not  until  the 
conductor's  arm  fell  motionless  at  his  side  that  he 
settled  back  in  his  seat. 

"Well,"  Milton  asked,  "what  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"  A-Number-One ! "  Elkan  answered  hoarsely.  "  It 
would  suit  me  just  so  well  if  it  would  last  the  whole 
evening  and  we  wouldn't  have  no  singing  and 
dancing  at  all." 

"What  do  you  mean  —  no  singing  and  dancing!" 
Milton  exclaimed. 

"Sure!"  Elkan  continued.  "I  wish  them  fellers 
would  play  the  whole  evening." 

The  conductor  tapped  his  desk  with  his  baton. 

"Don't  worry,"  Milton  commented  as  he  settled 
himself  for  the  next  movement.  "You'll  get  your 
wish  all  right." 

Elkan  looked  inquiringly  at  his  mentor,  but 
Milton  only  placed  his  forefinger  to  his  lips;  and 
thereafter,  until  the  conclusion  of  the  symphony, 
the  pauses  between  the  movements  of  the  symphony 
were  so  brief  that  Elkan  had  no  opportunity  to  make 
further  inquiries." 

"Well,  neighbour,"  asked  the  gentleman  on  his 
right,  as  the  musicians  filed  off  the  stage  for  the 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  183 

ten-minutes'  intermission,  "what  do  you  think  of 
your  first  symphony?" 

Elkan  smiled  and  concealed  his  shyness  by  clearing 
his  throat. 

"The  symphony  is  all  right,"  he  said;  "but,  with 
all  them  operators  there,  what  is  the  use  they  are 
trying  to  save  money  hiring  only  one  foreman?" 

"One  foreman?"  his  neighbour  cried. 

"Sure  —  the  feller  with  the  stick,"  Elkan  went 
on  blandly.  "Naturally  he  couldn't  keep  his  eye 
on  all  them  people  at  oncet  —  ain't  it?  I  am  watch- 
ing them  fellers,  which  they  are  working  them  big 
brass  machines,  for  the  last  half  hour,  and  except 
for  five  or  ten  minutes  they  sit  there  doing  abso- 
lutely nothing  —  just  fooling  away  their  time." 

"Them  fellers  ain't  fooling  away  their  time," 
Milton  said  gravely.  "They  ain't  got  nothing  to 
do  only  at  intervals." 

"Then  I  guess  they  must  pay  'em  by  piecework  — 
ain't  it?"  Elkan  asked. 

"They  pay  'em  so  much  a  night,"  Milton  ex- 
plained. 

"Well,  in  that  case,  Mr.  Jassy,"  Elkan  continued, 
"all  I  could  say  is  if  I  would  got  working  in  my  place 
half  a  dozen  fellers  which  I  am  paying  by  the  day, 
understand  me,  and  the  foreman  couldn't  keep 
'em  busy  only  half  the  time,  verstehst  du,  he  would 
quick  look  for  another  job." 

Elkan's  neighbour  on  the  right  had  been  growing 


184  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

steadily  more  crimson,  and  at  last  he  hurriedly 
seized  his  hat  and  passed  out  into  the  aisle. 

"That's  a  pretty  friendly  feller,"  Elkan  said  as 
he  gazed  after  him.  "Do  you  happen  to  know 
his  name?" 

"I  ain't  never  heard  his  name,"  Milton  replied; 
"  but  he  is  seemingly  crazy  about  music.  I  seen  him 
here  every  time  I  come." 

"Well,  I  don't  blame  him  none,"  Elkan  com- 
mented; "because  you  take  the  Harlem  Winter 
Garden,  for  instance,  and  though  the  music  is  rotten, 
understand  me,  they  got  the  nerve  to  charge  you 
yet  for  a  lot  of  food  which  half  the  time  you  don't 
want  at  all;  whereas  here  they  didn't  even  ask  us 
we  should  buy  so  much  as  a  glass  beer." 

At  this  juncture  the  short,  stout  person  returned 
and  proceeded  to  entertain  Elkan  and  Yetta  by 
pointing  out  among  the  audience  the  figures  of  local 
and  international  millionaires. 

"And  all  them  fellers  is  crazy  about  music  too?" 
Elkan  asked. 

"So  crazy,"  his  neighbour  said,  "that  the  little 
man  over  there,  with  the  white  beard,  spends  almost 
twenty  thousand  a  year  on  it!" 

"And  yet,"  Milton  said  bitterly,  "there's  plenty 
fellers  in  the  city  which  year  in  and  year  out  com- 
poses chamber  music  and  symphonic  music  which 
they  couldn't  themselves  make  ten  dollars  a  week; 
and,  when  it  comes  right  down  to  it,  none  of  them 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  185 

millionaires  would  loosen  up  to  such  new  beginners 
for  even  five  hundred  dollars  to  help  them  get  a 
hearing." 

The  short  person  received  Milton's  outburst  with 
a  faint  smile. 

"I've  heard  that  before,"  he  commented,  "but 
I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  any  of  those 
great  unknown  composers." 

"That's  because  most  of  'em  is  so  bashful  they 
ain't  got  sense  enough  to  push  themselves  forward," 
Milton  replied;  "aber  if  you  really  want  to  meet  one 
I  could  take  you  to-night  yet  to  a  cafe  on  Delancey 
Street  where  there  is  playing  a  trio  which  the  pianist 
is  something  you  could  really  call  a  genius." 

"You  don't  tell  me!"  Elkan's  neighbour  cried. 
"Why,  I  should  be  delighted  to  go  with  you." 

"How  about  it,  Mr.  Lubliner?"  Milton  asked. 
"Are  you  and  Mrs.  Lubliner  agreeable  to  go  down- 
town after  the  show  to  the  cafe  on  Delancey  Street? 
It's  a  pretty  poor  neighbourhood  already." 

Yetta  smiled. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  she  said;  "but  it  wouldn't  be 
the  first  time  me  and  Elkan  was  in  Delancey 
Street." 

"Then  it's  agreed  that  we're  all  going  to  hear 
the  genius,"  Elkan's  neighbour  added.  "I  heard 
you  call  one  another  Jassy  and  Lubliner  —  it's 
hardly  fair  you  shouldn't  know  my  name  too." 

He  felt  in  his  waistcoat  pocket  and  finally  handed 


186  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

a  visiting  card  to  Elkan,  who  glanced  at  it  hurriedly 
and  with  trembling  fingers  passed  it  on  to  his  wife, 
for  it  was  inscribed  in  old  English  type  as  follows: 


Hammerman 

IFogtom  l&otel 


"Once  and  for  all,  I  am  telling  you,  Volkovisk, 
either  you  would  got  to  play  music  here  or  quit!" 
Marculescu  cried  at  eleven  o'clock  that  evening. 
"The  customers  is  all  the  time  kicking  at  the  stuff 
you  give  us." 

"What  d'ye  mean,  stuff?"  Max  Merech  protested. 
"That  was  no  stuff,  Mr.  Marculescu.  That  was 
from  Brahms  a  trio,  and  it  suits  me  down  to  the 
ground." 

"Suits  you!"  Marculescu  exclaimed.  "Who  in 
blazes  are  you?" 

"I  am  auch  a  customer,  Mr.  Marculescu,"  Max 
replied  with  dignity. 

"  Yow,  a  customer!"  Marculescu  jeered.  "You 
sit  here  all  night  on  one  cup  coffee.  A  customer, 
sagt  erl  A  loafer  —  that's  what  you  are!  It  ain't 
you  I  am  making  my  money  from,  Merech  —  it's 
from  them  Takeefim*  uptown;  and  they  want  to 

*  Takeefim — Aristocracy. 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  187 

hear  music,  not  Brahms.  So  you  hear  what  I  am 
telling  you,  Volkovisk!  You  should  play  something 
good  —  like  'Wildcat  Rag'." 

"Wait  a  minute,  Mr.  Marculescu,"  Max  inter- 
rupted. "Do  you  mean  to  told  me  them  lowlife 
bums  in  front  there,  which  makes  all  that  Geschrei 
over  'Dixerlie'  and  such  like  Narrischkeit,  is  Takeefim 
yet?" 

"I  don't  want  to  listen  to  you  at  all,  Merech!" 
Marculescu  shouted. 

"I  don't  care  if  you  want  to  listen  to  me  oder  not," 
Merech  said.  "I  was  a  customer  here  when  you  got 
one  little  store  mit  two  waiters;  and  it  was  me  and 
all  the  other  fellers  you  are  calling  loafers  now  what 
give  you,  with  our  few  pennies,  your  first  start. 
Now  you  are  too  good  for  us  with  your  uptown 
Takeefim.  Why,  them  same  Takeefim  only  comes 
here,  in  the  first  place,  because  they  want  to  see 
what  it  looks  like  in  one  of  the  East  Side  cafes, 
where  they  got  such  good  music  and  such  interest- 
ing characters,  which  sits  and  drinks  coffee  and  plays 
chess  und  Tarrok." 

He  glared  at  the  enraged  Marculescu  and  waved 
his  hands  excitedly. 

"What  you  call  loafers  they  call  interesting  char- 
acters, Mr.  Marculescu,"  he  continued,  "and  what 
you  call  stuff  they  call  good  music  —  and  that's 
the  way  it  goes,  Mr.  Marculescu.  You  are  a  goose 
which  is  killing  its  own  golden  eggs!" 


i88  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"So!"  Marculescu  roared.  "I  am  a  goose,  am 
I  ?  You  loafer,  you !  Out  of  here  before  I  kick 
you  out!" 

"You  wouldn't  kick  nothing,"  Max  rejoined, 
"because  I  am  happy  to  go  out  from  here!  Where 
all  the  time  is  being  played  such  Machshovos  like 
'Wildcat  Rag,'  I  don't  want  to  stay  at  all." 

He  rose  from  his  chair  and  flung  ten  cents  on  to 
the  table. 

"And  furthermore,"  he  cried  by  way  of  peroration, 
"people  don't  got  to  come  five  miles  down  to 
Delancey  Street  to  hear  'Wildcat  Rag,'  Mr.  Marcu- 
lescu; so,  if  you  keep  on  playing  it,  Mr.  Marculescu, 
you  will  quick  find  that  it's  an  elegant  tune  to  bust 
up  to  —  and  that's  all  I  got  to  say!" 

As  he  walked  away,  Marculescu  made  a  sign  to 
his  pianist. 

"Go  ahead,  Volkovisk  —  play  Wildcat  Rag!'"  he 
said.  Then  he  followed  Max  to  the  front  of  the 
cafe;  and  before  they  reached  the  front  tables,  at 
which  sat  the  slummers  from  uptown,  Volkovisk 
began  to  pound  out  the  hackneyed  melody. 

"That's  what  I  think  of  your  arguments,  Merech!" 
Marculescu  said,  walking  behind  the  cashier's  desk. 

Max  paused  to  crush  him  with  a  final  retort;  but 
even  as  he  began  to  deliver  it  his  tongue  clove  to 
the  roof  of  his  mouth,  for  at  that  instant  the  door 
opened  and  there  entered  a  party  of  four,  with 
Elkan  Lubliner  in  the  van.  A  moment  later,  how- 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  189 

ever,  Milton  Jassy  pushed  his  guests  to  one  side 
and  strode  angrily  toward  Marculescu. 

"Koosk!"  he  bellowed  and  stamped  his  foot  on 
the  floor,  whereat  the  music  ceased  and  even  the 
uptown  revellers  were  startled  into  silence.  Only 
Marculescu  remained  unabashed. 

"Say,"  he  shouted  as  he  rushed  from  behind  his 
desk,  "what  do  you  think  this  joint  is?  —  a  joint!" 

"I  think  what  I  please,  Marculescu,"  Milton 
said,  "and  you  should  tell  Volkovisk  to  play  some- 
thing decent.  Also  you  should  bring  us  two  quarts 
from  the  best  Tchampanyer  wine  —  from  French 
wine  Tchampanyer,  not  Amerikanischer" 

He  waved  his  hand  impatiently  and  three  wait- 
ers —  half  of  Marculescu's  entire  staff  —  came  on 
the  jump;  so  that,  a  moment  later,  Jassy  and  his 
guests  were  divested  of  their  wraps  and  seated  at 
one  of  the  largest  tables  facing  the  piano.  It  was 
not  until  then  that  Milton  descried  Max  Merech 
hovering  round  the  door. 

"Merech!"  he  called.     "Kommen  sie  >r  uber!" 

Max  shook  his  head  shyly  and  half-opened  the 
door,  but  Elkan  forestalled  him.  He  fairly  bounded 
from  the  table  and  caught  his  assistant  cutter  by 
the  arm  just  as  he  was  disappearing  on  to  the  side- 
walk. 

"Max,"  he  said,  "what's  the  matter  with  you? 
Ain't  you  coming  in  to  meet  my  wife?" 

Max  shrugged  in  embarrassment. 


i9o  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"You  don't  want  me  to  butt  into  your  party, 
Mr.  Lubliner!"  he  said. 

"Listen,  Max,"  Elkan  almost  pleaded;  "not  only 
do  I  want  you  to,  but  you  would  be  doing  me  a  big 
favour  if  you  would  come  in  and  join  us.  Also, 
Max,  I  am  going  to  introduce  you  as  our  designer. 
You  ain't  got  no  objections?" 

"Not  at  all,"  Max  replied,  and  he  followed  his 
employer  into  the  cafe. 

"Yetta,"  Elkan  began,  "I  think  you  seen  Mr. 
Merech  before  —  ain't  it?" 

Mrs.  Lubliner  smiled  and  extended  her  hand. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Merech?"  she  said;  and 
Max  bowed  awkwardly. 

"Mr.  Kammerman,"  Elkan  continued,  "this  is 
our  designer,  Max  Merech;  and  I  could  assure  you, 
Mr.  Kammerman,  a  very  good  one  too.  He's  got 
a  great  eye  for  colour." 

"And  a  good  ear  for  music,"  Milton  added  as 
Kammerman  shook  the  blushing  dilettante  by  the 
hand. 

"In  fact,  Mr.  Kammerman,  if  he  has  got  such 
taste  in  designing  as  he  is  showing  in  music,"  Milton 
went  on,  "he  must  be  a  wonder!  Nothing  suits 
him  but  the  best.  And  now,  if  you  will  excuse 
me,  I'll  get  Volkovisk  he  should  play  you  his  sonata." 

He  left  the  table  with  his  leather  portfolio  under 
his  arm,  and  for  more  than  five  minutes  he  held 
an  earnest  consultation  with  Volkovisk  and  the 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  191 

cellist,  after  which  he  returned  smiling  to  his 
seat. 

"First  Volkovisk  plays  his  sonata,  'Opus  30,'  "  he 
explained,  "and  then  he  would  do  a  little  thing  of 
my  own." 

He  nodded  briskly  to  Volkovisk,  and  Kammerman 
settled  himself  resignedly  to  a  hearing  of  what  he 
anticipated  would  be  a  commonplace  piece  of  music. 
After  the  first  six  measures,  however,  he  sat  up 
straight  in  his  chair  and  his  face  took  on  an 
expression  of  wonder  and  delight.  Then,  resting 
his  elbow  on  the  table,  he  nursed  his  cheek  through- 
out the  first  movement  in  a  posture  of  earnest  atten- 
tion. 

"Why,"  he  cried  as  the  musician  paused,  "this 
man  is  a  genius!" 

Max  Merech  nodded.  His  face  was  flushed  and 
his  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

"What  did  I  told  you,  Mr.  Lubliner?"  he  said; 
and  Jassy  raised  his  hand  for  silence  while  Volkovisk 
began  the  second  movement.  This  and  the  suc- 
ceeding movements  fully  sustained  the  promise  of 
the  earlier  portions  of  the  composition;  and  when 
at  length  Volkovisk  rose  from  the  piano  stool  and 
approached  the  table  Kammerman  jumped  from  his 
chair  and  wrung  the  composer's  hand. 

"Sit  in  my  chair,"  he  insisted,  and  snapped  his 
fingers  at  Marculescu,  who  fumed  impotently  behind 
the  cashier's  desk. 


i92  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Here,"  he  called;  "more  wine  —  and  look  sharp 
about  it!" 

Marculescu  obeyed  sulkily  and  again  the  glasses 
were  filled. 

"Gentlemen,"  Kammerman  said,  "and  Mrs. 
Lubliner,  I  ask  you  to  drink  to  a  great  career  just 
beginning." 

"Lots  of  people  said  that  before,"  Max  murmured 
after  he  had  emptied  his  glass. 

"They  said  it,"  Kammerman  replied,  "but  I 
pledge  it.  You  shall  play  no  more  in  this  place, 
Volkovisk  —  and  here  is  my  hand  on  it." 

Max  Merech  beamed  across  the  table  at  his  em- 
ployer. 

"Well,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  said,  "you  lost  your 
chance." 

Elkan  shrugged  and  smiled. 

"Might  you  could  find  another  of  them  genius 
fellers  for  me  maybe,  Max?"  he  said. 

And  therewith  Kammerman  slapped  Milton  Jassy 
on  the  back. 

"By  Jove!  We  forgot  your  trio,"  he  said.  "Play 
it,  Volkovisk,  as  your  valedictory  here." 

Again  Volkovisk  sought  the  piano,  and  after 
whispered  instructions  to  his  assistants  he  began  a 
rendition  of  Jassy's  "Opus  47,"  from  the  manuscript 
Milton  had  brought  with  him;  but,  allowing  for  the 
faulty  technic  of  the  'cellist  and  the  uncertainty 
that  attends  the  first  reading  from  manuscript  of 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  193 

any  composition,  there  was  little  to  recommend 
Jassy's  work. 

"Very  creditable!"  Kammerman  said  at  the  end 
of  the  movement.  "Perhaps  we  might  hear  the 
rest." 

Max  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  table  to  avoid 
looking  at  Jassy,  and  even  Volkovisk  seemed  em- 
barrassed as  he  swung  round  on  the  piano  stool. 

"Well?"  he  said  inquiringly. 

Jassy  emitted  a  bitter  laugh. 

"That'll  do,  Volkovisk,"  he  replied  hoarsely. 
"I  guess  it  needs  rehearsing." 

At  this  point  Max  attempted  to  create  a  diversion. 

"Look  at  that  lady  sitting  there!"  he  said.  "She 
puts  on  a  yellow  hat  to  an  old-gold  dress.  She's 
committing  murder  and  she  don't  know  it!" 

Kammerman  seized  on  the  incident  as  a  way  of 
escape  from  criticising  Jassy's  trio. 

"That  reminds  me,  Lubliner,"  he  said.  "Give 
me  your  business  card  if  you  have  one  with  you.  I 
must  tell  Mr.  Dalzell,  my  cloak  buyer,  to  look  over 
your  line.  I'm  sure,  with  a  designer  of  Mr.  Merech's 
artistic  instincts  working  for  you,  you  will  be  mak- 
ing up  just  the  highgrade  line  of  goods  we  need." 


One  year  later,  the  usual  crowd  of  first-nighters 
lounged  in  the  lobby  of  the  Siddons  Theatre  during 
the  intermission  between  the  second  and  third  acts 


i94  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

of  M.  Sidney  Benson's  newest  musical  comedy, 
"Marjory  from  Marguery's,"  and  commented  with 
enthusiasm  on  the  song  hit  of  the  show  —  "My 
Bleriot  Maid."  A  number  of  the  more  gifted  even 
whistled  the  melody,  skipping  the  hard  part  and 
proceeding  by  impromptu  and  conventional  modu- 
lation to  the  refrain,  which  had  been  expressly  de- 
signed by  its  composer,  Milton  Jassy,  so  as  to  present 
no  technical  difficulties  to  the  most  modest  whistler. 

Through  this  begemmed  and  piping  throng,  Kam- 
merman  and  Volkovisk  elbowed  their  way  to  the 
street  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air;  and  as  they  reached 
the  sidewalk  Kammerman  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"What  a  terrible  melody!"  he  ejaculated. 

"But  the  plot  ain't  bad,"  Volkovisk  suggested, 
and  Kammerman  grinned  involuntarily. 

"To  be  exact,  the  two  plots  aren't  bad,"  he  said. 
"It's  made  up  of  two  old  farces.  One  of  them  is 
'Embrassons  nous,  Duval*  and  the  other  'Un 
Gar$on,  de  chez  Gaillard.9  ' 

"But  the  costumes  are  really  something  which 
you  could  call  beautiful!"  Volkovisk  declared. 

"Merech  approved  the  costumes  too,"  Kammer- 
man agreed  with  a  laugh.  "He  left  after  the  first 
act;  and  he  said  that  if  you  endured  it  to  the  end 
you  were  to  be  sure  to  tell  Jassy  the  colorings  were 
splendid!"  He  lit  a  cigarette  reflectively.  "That 
man  is  a  regular  shark  for  coloring!"  he  said.  "It 
seems  that  when  I  first  met  him  that  night  he  was 


HIGHGRADE  LINES  195 

only  an  assistant  cutter;  but  Elkan  Lubliner  made 
him  designer  very  shortly  afterward  —  and  it  has 
proved  a  fine  thing  for  both  of  them.  I  understand 
we  bought  fifteen  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  goods 
from  them  during  the  past  year!" 

"He  deserved  all  the  good  luck  that  came  to  him," 
Volkovisk  cried;  and  Kammerman  placed  his  hand 
affectionately  on  his  protege's  shoulder. 

"There's  a  special  Providence  that  looks  after 
artists,"  he  said  as  they  reentered  the  theatre, 
"whether  they  paint,  write,  compose,  or  design 
garments." 


CHAPTER  FIVE 
ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES 

THE  MOUSE  SCRATCHES    THE  LION'S  BACK;  THE    LION 
SCRATCHES  THE  MOUSE'S  BACK 

NO,  ELKAN,"  said  Louis   Stout,   of  Flugel 
&  Stoat.     "When  you  are  coming  to  com- 
pare  Johnsonhurst   mit  Burgess  Park  it's 
already  a  molehill  to  a  mountain." 

"Burgess  Park  ain't  such  high  ground  neither," 
Elkan  Lubliner  retorted.  "Max  Kovner  says  he 
lives  out  there  on  Linden  Boulevard  three  months  only 
and  he  gets  full  up  with  malaria  something  terrible. " 

"Malaria  we  ain't  got  it  in  Burgess  Park!" 
Louis  declared.  "I  am  living  there  now  six  years, 
Elkan,  and  I  never  bought  so  much  as  a  two-grain 
quinine  pill.  Furthermore,  Elkan,  Kovner's  malaria 
you  could  catch  in  Denver,  Colorado,  or  on  an  ocean 
steamer,  y'understand;  because,  with  a  lowlife  bum 
like  Max  Kovner,  which  he  sits  up  till  all  hours 
of  the  night  —  a  drinker  and  a  gambler,  understand 
me  —  you  don't  got  to  be  a  professor  exactly  to 
diagonize  his  trouble.  It  ain't  malaria,  Elkan,  it's 
Katztnjammerf" 

196 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  197 

"But  my  Yetta  is  stuck  on  Johnsonhurst,"  Elkan 
protested,  "and  she  already  makes  up  her  mind 
we  would  move  out  there." 

"That  was  just  the  way  with  my  wife,"  Louis 
said.  "For  six  months  she  is  crying  all  the  time 
Ogden  Estates;  and  if  I  would  listen  to  her,  Elkan, 
and  bought  out  there,  y'understand,  instead  we 
would  be  turning  down  offers  on  our  house  at  an 
advance  of  twenty  per  cent,  on  the  price  we  paid 
for  it,  we  would  be  considering  letting  the  property 
go  under  foreclosure!  You  ought  to  see  that  place 
Ogden  Estates  nowadays,  Elkan  —  nothing  but  a 
bunch  of  Italieners  lives  there." 

"But "  Elkan  began. 

"Another  thing,"  Louis  Stout  broke  in:  "Out 
in  Johnsonhurst  what  kind  of  society  do  you  got? 
Moe  Rabiner  lives  there,  and  Marks  Pasinsky 
lives  there  —  and  Gott  weiss  wer  noch.  My  partner, 
Mr.  Flugel,  is  approached  the  other  day  with  an 
offer  of  some  property  in  Johnsonhurst,  and  I  was 
really  in  favour  he  should  take  it  up;  but  he  says 
to  me,  *  Louis,'  he  says,  'a  place  where  such  people 
lives  like  Pasinsky  and  Rabiner  I  wouldn't  touch 
at  all!'  And  he  was  right,  Elkan.  Salesmen  and 
designers  only  lives  in  Johnsonhurst;  while  out  in 
Burgess  Park  we  got  a  nice  class  of  people  living, 
Elkan.  You  know  J.  Kamin,  of  the  Lee  Printemps, 
Pittsburgh?" 

"Used  to  was  one  of  our  best  customers,"  Philip 


198  ELKAN  LIBLINER 

Scheikowitz  replied,  "though  he  passed  us  up  last 
year." 

"His  sister,  Mrs.  Benno  Ortelsburg,  lives  one 
house  by  the  other  with  me,"  Louis  went  on.  "Her 
husband  does  a  big  real-estate  business  there. 
Might  you  also  know  Julius  Tarnowitz,  of  the 
Tarnowitz- Wixman  Department  Store,  Rochester?" 

"Bought  from  us  a  couple  years  a  small  bill," 
Marcus  Polatkin  said.  "I  wish  we  could  sell  him 


more." 


"Well,  his  brother,  Sig  Tarnowitz,  lives  across 
the  street  from  us,"  Louis  cried  triumphantly. 
"Sig's  got  a  fine  business  there  on  Fifth  Avenue, 
Brooklyn." 

"What  for  a  business?" 

"A  furniture  business,"  Louis  replied.  "And 
might  you  would  know  also  Joel  Ribnik,  which 
he  is  running  the  McKinnon-Weldon  Drygoods 
Company,  of  Cyprus,  Pennsylvania?" 

"That's  the  feller  what  you  nearly  sold  that  big 
bill  to  last  month,  Elkan,"  Scheikowitz  commented. 

"Well,  his  sister  is  married  to  a  feller  by  the 
name  Robitscher,  of  Robitscher,  Smith  &  Company, 
the  wallpaper  house  and  interior  decorators.  They 
got  an  elegant  place  down  the  street  from  us." 

"But "  Elkan  began  again. 

"But  nothing,  Elkan  1"  Marcus  Polatkin  inter- 
rupted with  a  ferocious  wink;  for  Louis  Stout,  as 
Junior  partner  in  the  thriving  Williamsburg  store 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  199 

of  Flugel  &  Stout,  was  viewing  Polatkin,  Scheiko- 
witz  &  Company's  line  preparatory  to  buying  his 
spring  line  of  dresses.  "But  nothing,  Elkan!  Mr. 
Stout  knows  what  he  is  talking  about,  Elkan;  and 
if  I  would  be  you,  instead  I  would  argue  with  him, 
understand  me,  I  would  take  Yetta  out  to  Burgess 
Park  on  Sunday  and  give  the  place  a  look." 

"That's  the  ideal"  Louis  cried.  "And  you  should 
come  and  take  dinner  with  us  first.  Mrs.  Stout 
would  be  delighted." 

"What  time  do  you  eat  dinner?  Philip  Scheiko- 
witz  asked,  frowning  significantly  at  Elkan. 

"Two  o'clock,"  Louis  replied,  and  Polatkin  and 
Scheikowitz  nodded  in  unison. 

"He'll  be  there,"  Polatkin  declared. 

"At  a  quarter  before  two,"  Scheikowitz  added 
and  Elkan  smiled  mechanically  by  way  of  assent. 

"So  come  along,  Mr.  Stout,"  Polatkin  said, 
"and  look  at  them  Ethel  Barrymore  dresses.  I 
think  you'll  like  'em." 

He  led  Stout  from  the  office  as  he  spoke  while 
Scheikowitz  remained  behind  with  Elkan. 

"Honest,  Elkan,"  he  said,  "I'm  surprised  to  see 
the  way  you  are  acting  with  Louis  Stout  1" 

"What  do  you  mean,  the  way  I'm  acting,  Mr. 
Scheikowitz?"  Elkan  protested.  "Do  you  think 
I  am  going  to  buy  a  house  in  a  neighbourhood  which 
I  don't  want  to  live  in  at  all  just  to  oblige  a  cus- 
tomer?" 


200  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Schmooes,  Elkan!"  Scheikowitz  exclaimed.  "No 
one  asks  you  you  should  buy  a  house  there.  Be  a 
little  reasonable,  Elkan.  What  harm  would  it  do 
you,  supposing  you  and  Yetta  should  go  out  to 
Burgess  Park  next  Sunday?  Because  you  know 
the  way  Louis  Stout  is,  Elkan.  He  will  look  over 
our  line  for  two  weeks  yet  before  he  decides  on  his 
order  —  and  meantime  we  shouldn't  entegonize 
him." 

"I  don't  want  to  antagonize  him,"  Elkan  said; 
"but  me  and  Yetta  made  our  arrangements  to  go 
out  to  Johnsonhurst  next  Sunday." 

"Go  out  there  the  Sunday  after,"  cried  Scheiko- 
witz. "Johnsonhurst  would  still  be  on  the  map, 
Elkan.  It  ain't  going  to  run  away  exactly." 

Thus  persuaded,  Elkan  and  Yetta  on  the  following 
Sunday  elbowed  their  way  through  the  crowd  at 
the  entrance  of  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  and  after  a 
delay  of  several  minutes  boarded  a  train  for  Burgess 
Park. 

"Well,  all  I  can  say  is,"  Yetta  gasped,  after  they 
had  seized  on  the  only  vacant  seats  in  the  car,  "if 
it's  this  way  on  Sunday  what  would  it  be  on  week- 
days?" 

"There  must  have  been  a  block,"  Elkan  said 
meekly.  Only  by  the  exercise  of  the  utmost  marital 
diplomacy  had  he  induced  his  wife  to  make  the 
visit  to  Louis  Stout's  home,  and  one  of  his  most 
telling  arguments  had  been  the  advantage  of  the 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  201 

elevated  railroad  journey  to  Burgess  Park  over  the 
subway  ride  to  Johnsonhurst. 

"Furthermore,"  Yetta  insisted,  referring  to 
another  of  Elkan's  plausible  reasons  for  visiting 
Burgess  Park,  "I  suppose  all  these  Italieners  and 
Betzimmers  are  customers  of  yours  which  we  was 
going  to  run  across  on  our  way  down  there.  Ain't  it? " 

Elkan  blushed  guiltily  as  he  looked  about  him 
at  the  carload  of  holiday-makers;  but  a  moment 
later  he  exclaimed  aloud  as  he  recognized  in  a  seat 
across  the  aisle  no  less  a  person  than  Joseph  Kamin, 
of  Le  Printemps,  Pittsburgh. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Kamin?"  he  said. 

"Not  Elkan  Lubliner,  from  Polatkin,  Scheiko- 
witz  &  Company?"  Mr.  Kamin  exclaimed.  "Well, 
who  would  think  to  meet  you  here!" 

He  rose  from  his  seat,  whereat  a  bulky  Italian 
immediately  sank  into  it;  and  as  livery  of  seizin 
he  appropriated  the  comic  section  of  Mr.  Kamin's 
Sunday  paper,  which  had  fallen  to  the  floor  of  the 
car,  and  spread  it  wide  open  in  front  of  him. 

"Now  you  lost  your  seat,"  Elkan  said;  "so  you 
should  take  mine." 

He  jumped  to  his  feet  and  Kamin  sat  down  in 
his  place,  while  a  Neapolitan  who  hung  on  an  adja- 
cent strap  viciously  scowled  his  disappointment. 

"You  ain't  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Lubliner?" 
Elkan  said. 

"Pleased  to  meetcher,"  Kamin  murmured. 


202  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Yetta  bowed  stiffly  and  Elkan  hastened  to  make 
conversation  by  way  of  relieving  Mr.  Kamin's 
embarrassment. 

"Looks  like  an  early  spring  the  way  people  is 
going  to  the  country  in  such  crowds,"  he  said. 

"I  bet  yer,"  Kamin  rejoined  emphatically.  "I 
arrived  in  New  York  two  weeks  ahead  of  my 
schedule,  because  I  simply  got  to  do  my  buying  now 
or  lose  a  lot  of  early  spring  trade." 

"Have  you  been  in  town  long?"  Elkan  asked. 

"Only  this  morning,"  Kamin  answered;  "and  I 
am  going  down  to  eat  dinner  with  my  sister,  Mrs. 
Ortelsburg.  She  lives  in  Burgess  Park." 

"Is  that  so?"  Elkan  exclaimed.  "We  ourselves 
are  going  to  Burgess  Park  —  to  visit  a  friend." 

"A  customer,"  Yetta  corrected. 

"A  customer  could  also  be  a  friend,"  Kamin 
declared,  "especially  if  he's  a  good  customer." 

"This  is  a  very  good  customer,"  Elkan  went  on, 
"by  the  name  Louis  Stout." 

"Louis  Stout,  from  Flugel  &  Stout?"  Kamin 
cried.  "Why,  him  and  Benno  Ortelsburg  is  like 
brothers  already  I  Well,  then,  I'll  probably  see  you 
down  in  Burgess  Park  this  afternoon,  on  account 
every  Sunday  afternoon  Louis  plays  pinocle  at 
my  brother-in-law's  house.  Why  don't  he  fetch 
you  round  to  take  a  hand?" 

"I  should  be  delighted,"  Elkan  said;  but  Yetta 
sniffed  audibly. 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  203 

"I  guess  we  would  be  going  home  right  after 
dinner,  before  the  crowd  starts  back,"  she  said. 

"Not  on  a  fine  day  like  this  you  wouldn't," 
Kamin  protested;  "because  once  you  get  out  to 
Burgess  Park  you  ain't  in  such  a  hurry  to  come 
back.  I  wish  we  would  got  such  a  place  near 
Pittsburgh,  Mrs.  Lubliner.  I  bet  yer  I  would  quick 
move  out  there.  The  smoke  gets  worser  and  worser 
in  Pittsburgh;  in  fact,  it's  so  nowadays  we  couldn't 
sell  a  garment  in  pastel  shades." 

"Well,  we  got  plenty  blacks,  navy  blues,  Copen- 
hagen blues  and  brown  in  our  spring  line,  Mr. 
Kamin,"  Elkan  said;  and  therewith  he  commenced 
so  graphically  to  catalogue  Polatkin,  Scheikowitz  & 
Company's  new  stock  that,  by  the  time  the  train 
drew  into  Burgess  Park,  Kamin  was  making  figures 
on  the  back  of  an  envelope  in  an  effort  to  convince 
Elkan  that  his  prices  were  all  wrong. 

"But,  anyhow,"  Kamin  said,  as  they  parted  in 
front  of  the  Ortelsburgs'  colonial  residence,  "I 
will  see  you  in  the  store  to-morrow  morning  sure." 

"You'll  see  me  before  then,  because  me  and 
Yetta  is  coming  round  this  afternoon  sure  —  ain't 
we,  Yetta?" 

Mrs.  Lubliner  nodded,  for  her  good  humour  had 
been  restored  by  Elkan's  splendid  exhibition  of 
salesmanship. 

"This  afternoon  is  something  else  again,"  Kamin 
said,  "because  a  feller  which  tries  to  mix  pinocle 


204  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

with  business  is  apt  to  overplay  his  hand  in  both 
games." 

"No,  Joe;  you're  wrong,"  Benno  Ortelsburg  said 
to  his  brother-in-law,  Joseph  Kamin,  as  they  sipped 
their  after-dinner  coffee  in  the  Ortelsburg  library 
that  day.  "  It  wouldn't  be  taking  advantage  of  the 
feller  at  all.  You  say  yourself  he  tries  to  sell  goods 
to  you  on  the  car  already.  Why  shouldn't  we  try 
to  sell  Glaubmann's  house  to  him  while  he's  down 
here?  And  we'll  split  the  commission  half  and 
half." 

Kamin  hesitated  before  replying. 

"In  business,  Joe  —  it's  Esau's  fable  of  the  lion 
and  the  mouse  every  time!"  Ortelsburg  continued. 
"The  mouse  scratches  the  lion's  back  and  the  lion 
scratches  the  mouse's  back!  Ain't  it?" 

"But  you  know  so  well  as  I  do,  Benno,  that 
Glaubmann's  house  on  Linden  Boulevard  ain't  worth 
no  eighteen  thousand  dollars,"  Kamin  said. 

"Why  ain't  it?"  Benno  retorted.  "Glaubmann's 
Linden  Boulevard  house  is  precisely  the  same 
house  as  this,  built  from  the  same  plans  and  every- 
thing —  and  this  house  costs  me  thirteen  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars.  Suburban  real  estate  is  worth 
just  so  much  as  you  can  get  some  sucker  to  pay 
for  it,  Joe.  So  I  guess  I  better  get  the  cards  and 
chips  ready,  because  I  see  Glaubmann  coming  up 
the  street  now." 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  205 

A  moment  later  Glaubmann  entered  the  library 
and  greeted  Kamin  uproariously. 

"Hello,  Joe!"  he  cried.  "How's  the  drygoods 
business  in  Pittsburgh?" 

"Not  so  good  as  the  real-estate  business  in  Burgess 
Park,  Barney,"  Kamin  replied.  "They  tell  me 
you  are  selling  houses  hand  over  fist." 

"row  — hand  over  fist!"  Barnett  cried.  "If  I 
carry  a  house  six  months  and  sell  it  at  a  couple 
thousand  dollars'  profit,  what  is  it?" 

"I  got  to  get  rid  of  a  whole  lot  of  garments  to 
make  a  couple  thousand  dollars,  Barney,"  Kamin 
said;  "and,  anyhow,  if  you  sell  a  house  for  eighteen 
thousand  dollars  which  it  cost  you  thirteen-five 
you  would  be  making  a  little  more  as  four  thousand 
dollars." 

"Sure  I  would,"  Glaubmann  replied;  "aber  the 
people  which  buys  green-goods  and  gold  bricks 
ain't  investing  in  eigh teen-thousand-dollar  proposi- 
tions! Such  yokels  you  could  only  interest  in 
hundred-dollar  lots  between  high  and  low  water 
on  some  of  them  Jersey  sandbars." 

"There  is  all  kinds  of  come-ons,  Barney,"  Joe 
said,  "and  the  biggest  one,  understand  me,  is  the 
business  man  who  is  willing  to  be  played  for  a 
sucker,  so  as  he  can  hold  his  customers'  trade." 

"You  got  the  proper  real-estate  spirit,  Joe," 
Benno  declared,  as  he  returned  with  the  cards  and 
chips.  "You  don't  allow  the  ground  to  grow  under 


206  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

your  feet.  Just  at  present,  though,  we  are  going 
to  spiel  a  little  pinocle  and  we  would  talk  business 
afterward." 

"Real  estate  ain't  business,"  Kamin  retorted. 
"It's  a  game  like  pinocle;  and  I  got  a  little  Jack 
of  Diamonds  and  Queen  of  Spades  coming  round 
here  in  a  few  minutes  which  I  would  like  to  meld." 

"Now  you  are  talking  poetry,"  Barnett  said. 

"Take  it  from  me,  Barney,"  Benno  Ortelsburg 
interrupted,  "this  ain't  no  poetry.  It's  a  fact;  and 
if  you  could  see  your  way  clear  to  pay  a  thousand 
dollars'  commission,  y'understand,  me  and  Joe  is 
got  a  customer  for  your  Linden  Boulevard  house 
at  eighteen  thousand  dollars." 

"Jokes  you  are  making  me!"  Barnett  cried. 
"You  shouldn't  drink  so  much  schnapps  after 
dinner,  Benno/ because  I  could  as  much  get  eighteen 
thousand  for  that  Linden  Boulevard  house  as  I  would 
pay  you  a  thousand  dollars  commission  if  I  got  it." 

"You  ain't  paying  me  the  thousand  dollars," 
Benno  protested.  "Don't  you  suppose  Joe's  got  a 
look-in-here  ? " 

"And  furthermore,"  Joe  said,  "you  also  got 
Louis  Stout  to  consider.  If  you  think  Louis  Stout 
is  going  to  sit  by  and  see  a  commission  walk  past 
him,  Benno,  you  are  making  a  big  mistake." 

"I'm  willing  we  should  give  Louis  a  hundred  or 
so,"  Benno  agreed.  "We  got  to  remember  Louis 
is  a  customer  of  his  also." 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  207 

"A  customer  of  who's?"  Barnett  asked,  as  the 
doorbell  rang. 

"Stiegen!"  Benno  hissed;  and  a  moment  later  he 
ushered  Elkan  and  Yetta  into  the  library,  while 
Mr.  Stout  brought  up  the  rear. 

Benno  cleared  his  throat  preparatory  to  intro- 
ducing the  newcomers,  but  Louis  Stout  brushed 
hastily  past  him. 

"Mr.  Glaubmann,"  Louis  said,  "this  is  my  friend, 
Elkan  Lubliner." 

"And  you  forget  Mrs.  Lubliner,"  cried  Mrs. 
Ortelsburg,  who  had  hurried  downstairs  at  the 
sound  of  voices  in  the  hall.  "I'm  Mrs.  Ortelsburg," 
she  continued,  turning  to  Yetta.  "Won't  you  come 
upstairs  and  take  your  things  off?" 

"Elkan,"  Louis  Stout  continued,  "you  better  go 
along  with  her.  I  want  you  to  see  what  an  elegant 
lot  of  clothes  -  closets  they  got  upstairs.  You  know 
most  houses  is  designed  by  archytecks  which  all 
they  are  trying  to  do  is  to  save  money  for  the 
builder.  Aber  this  archyteck  was  an  exception. 
The  way  he  figures  it  he  tries  to  build  the  house 
to  please  the  women,  mit  lots  of  closet  room,  and  — 
excuse  me,  ladies  —  to  hell  with  the  expenses! 
I'll  go  upstairs  with  you  and  show  you  what  I  mean." 

Benno  frowned  angrily. 

"'Tain't  necessary,  Louis,"  he  said.  "Mrs.  Or- 
telsburg would  show  him." 

He  drew  forward  chairs;  and,  after  Elkan  and 


208  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Yetta  had  followed  Mrs.  Ortelsburg  upstairs,  he 
closed  the  library  door. 

"Couldn't  I  introduce  people  in  my  own  house, 
Stout?"  he  demanded. 

Louis  Stout  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"If  you  mean  as  a  matter  of  ettykit  —  yes," 
he  retorted;  " aber  if  it's  a  real-estate  transaction  — 
no.  When  I  bring  a  customer  to  Mr.  Glaubmann 
for  his  Linden  Boulevard  house,  Ortelsburg,  I  do 
the  introducing  myself,  which  afterward  I  don't 
want  no  broker  to  claim  he  earned  the  commission 
by  introducing  the  customer  first  —  understand 
me?" 

He  seated  himself  and  smiled  calmly  at  Kamin, 
Glaubmann,  and  his  host. 

"I  ain't  living  in  the  country  for  my  health 
exactly,"  he  declared,  "and  don't  you  forget  it." 

"Where's  your  written  authorization  from  the 
owner?"  Ortelsburg  demanded,  raising  a  familiar 
point  of  real-estate  brokerage  law;  and  Stout  tapped 
his  breast  pocket. 

"Six  months  ago  already,"  Stout  replied,  "Mr. 
Glaubmann  writes  me  if  I  hear  of  a  customer  for 
his  house  he  would  protect  me,  and  I  got  the  letter 
here  in  my  pocket.  Ain't  that  right,  Mr.  Glaub- 
mann?" 

Glaubmann  had  walked  toward  the  window  and 
was  looking  out  upon  the  budding  white  poplars 
that  spread  their  branches  at  a  height  of  six  feet 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  209 

above  the  sidewalks  of  Burgess  Park.  He  nodded 
in  confirmation  of  Louis'  statement;  and  as  he  did 
so  a  short,  stout  person,  who  was  proceeding  hur- 
riedly down  the  street  in  the  direction  of  the  station, 
paused  in  front  of  the  Ortelsburg  residence.  A 
moment  later  he  rang  the  bell  and  Ortelsburg  himself 
opened  the  door. 

"Nu,  Mr.  Kovner!"  he  said.  "What  could  I  do 
for  you?" 

"Mr.  Glaubmann  just  nods  to  me  out  of  your 
window,"  Max  Kovner  replied,  "and  I  thought  he 
wants  to  speak  to  me." 

Benno  returned  to  the  library  with  Max  at  his 
heels. 

"Do  you  want  to  speak  to  Mr.  Kovner,  Glaub- 
mann?" he  asked,  and  Glaubmann  started  per- 
ceptibly. During  the  months  of  Max  Kovner's 
tenancy  Glaubmann  had  not  only  refrained  from 
visiting  his  Linden  Boulevard  house,  but  he  had 
also  performed  feats  of  disappearance  resembling 
Indian  warfare  in  his  efforts  to  avoid  Max  Kovner 
on  the  streets  of  Burgess  Park.  All  this  was  the 
result  of  Max  Kovner's  taking  possession  of  the 
Linden  Boulevard  house  upon  Glaubmann's  agree- 
ment to  make  necessary  plumbing  repairs  and  to 
paint  and  repaper  the  living  rooms;  and  Glaub- 
mann's complete  breach  of  this  agreement  was 
reflected  in  the  truculency  of  Max  Kovner's  manner 
as  he  entered  the  Ortelsburg  library. 


210  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Maybe  Glaubmann  don't  want  to  speak  to  me," 
he  cried,  "but  I  want  to  speak  to  him,  and  in  the 
presence  of  you  gentlemen  here  also." 

He  banged  Ortelsburg's  library  table  with  his 
clenched  fist. 

"Once  and  for  all,  Mr.  Glaubmann,"  he  said, 
"either  you  would  fix  that  plumbing  and  do  that 
painting,  understand  me,  or  I  would  move  out 
of  your  Linden  Boulevard  house  the  first  of  next 
month  sure!" 

Glaubmann  received  this  ultimatum  with  a  de- 
fiant grin. 

"Schmooes,  Kovner,"  he  said,  "you  wouldn't  do 
nothing  of  the  kindl  You  got  mit  me  a  verbal 
lease  for  one  year  in  the  presence  of  my  wife,  your 
wife  and  a  couple  of  other  people  which  the  names 
I  forget." 

"And  how  about  the  repairs?"  Kovner  demanded. 

"If  you  seen  the  house  needs  repairs  and  you  go 
into  possession  anyhow,"  Glaubmann  retorted,  "you 
waive  the  repairs,  because  the  agreement  to  repair 
merges  in  the  lease.  That's  what  Kent  J.  Goldstein, 
my  lawyer,  says,  Kovner;  and  ask  any  other  lawyer, 
Kovner,  and  he  could  tell  you  the  same." 

"So,"  Kovner  exclaimed,  "I  am  stuck  with  that 
rotten  house  for  a  year!  Is  that  the  idee?" 

Glaubmann  nodded. 

"All  right,  Mr.  Glaubmann,"  Kovner  concluded. 
"You  are  here  in  a  strange  house  to  me  and  I  couldn't 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  211 

do  nothing;  but  I  am  coming  over  to  your  office 
to-morrow,  and  if  I  got  to  sit  there  all  day,  under- 
stand me,  we  would  settle  this  thing  up." 

"That's  all  right,"  Ortelsburg  interrupted.  "When 
you  got  real-estate  business  with  Glaubmann,  Mr. 
Kovner,  his  office  is  the  right  place  to  see  him. 
Aber  here  is  a  private  house  and  Sunday,  Mr. 
Kovner,  and  we  ain't  doing  no  real-estate  business 
here.  So,  if  you  got  a  pressing  engagement  some- 
wheres  else,  Mr.  Kovner,  don't  let  me  hurry 
you." 

He  opened  the  library  door,  and  with  a  final 
glare  at  his  landlord  Max  passed  slowly  out. 

"That's  a  dangerous  feller,"  Glaubmann  said 
as  his  tenant  banged  the  street  door  behind  him. 
"He  goes  into  possession  for  one  year  without  a 
written  lease  containing  a  covenant  for  repairs  by 
the  landlord,  y'understand,  and  now  he  wants  to 
blame  me  for  it!  Honestly,  the  way  some  people 
acts  so  unreasonable,  Kamin,  it's  enough  to  sicken 
me  with  the  real-estate  business!" 

Kamin  nodded  sympathetically,  but  Louis  Stout 
made  an  impatient  gesture  by  way  of  bringing  the 
conversation  back  to  its  original  theme. 

"That  ain't  here  or  there,"  he  declared.  "The 
point  is  I  am  fetching  you  a  customer  for  your 
Linden  Boulevard  house,  Glaubmann,  and  I  want 
this  here  matter  of  the  commission  settled  right 
away." 


212  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Ortelsburg  rose  to  his  feet  as  a  shuffling  on  the 
stairs  announced  the  descent  of  his  guests. 

"Commissions  we  would  talk  about  afterward," 
he  said.  "First  let  us  sell  the  house." 

In  Benno  Ortelsburg's  ripe  experience  there  were 
as  many  methods  of  selling  suburban  residences  as 
there  were  residences  for  sale;  and,  like  the  born 
salesman  he  was,  he  realized  that  each  transaction 
possessed  its  individual  obstacles,  to  be  overcome 
by  no  hard-and-fast  rules  of  salesmanship.  Thus 
he  quickly  divined  that  whoever  sought  to  sell  Elkan 
a  residence  in  Burgess  Park  must  first  convince 
Yetta,  and  he  proceeded  immediately  to  apportion 
the  chips  for  a  five-handed  game  of  auction  pinocle, 
leaving  Yetta  to  be  entertained  by  his  wife.  Mrs. 
Ortelsburg's  powers  of  persuasion  in  the  matter  of 
suburban  property  were  second  only  to  her  hus- 
band's, and  the  game  had  not  proceeded  very  far 
when  Benno  looked  into  the  adjoining  room  and 
observed  with  satisfaction  that  Yetta  was  listening 
open-mouthed  to  Mrs.  Ortelsburg's  fascinating  nar- 
rative of  life  in  Burgess  Park. 

"Forty  hens  we  got  it,"  she  declared;  "and  this 
month  alone  they  are  laying  on  us  every  day  a  dozen 
eggs  —  some  days  ten,  or  nine  at  the  least.  Then, 
of  course,  if  we  want  a  little  fricassee  once  in  a  while 
we  could  do  that  also." 

"How  do  you  do  when  you  are  getting  all  of  a 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  213 

sudden  company?"  Yetta  asked.  "I  didn't  see  no 
delicatessen  store  round  here." 

"You  didn't?"  Mrs.  Ortelsburg  exclaimed.  "Why, 
right  behind  the  depot  is  Mrs.  J.  Kaplan's  a  deli- 
catessen store,  which  I  am  only  saying  to  her 
yesterday,  'Mrs.  Kaplan,'  I  says,  'how  do  you  got 
all  the  time  such  fresh,  nice  smoke-tongue  here?' 
And  she  says,  'It's  the  country  air,'  she  says,  'which 
any  one  could  see;  not  alone  smoke-tongue  keeps 
fresh,  dber  my  daughter  also,  when  she  comes  down 
here,'  she  says,  'she  is  pale  like  anything  —  and 
look  at  her  now!'  And  it's  a  fact,  Mrs.  Lubliner, 
the  daughter  did  look  sick,  and  to-day  yet  she's  got 
a  complexion  fresh  like  a  tomato  already.  That's 
what  Burgess  Park  done  for  her!" 

"But  don't  you  got  difficulty  keeping  a  girl, 
Mrs.  Ortelsburg?"  Yetta  inquired. 

"Difficulty?"  Mrs.  Ortelsburg  cried.  "Why,  just 
let  me  show  you  my  kitchen.  The  girls  love  it 
here.  In  the  first  place,  we  are  only  twenty  minutes 
from  Coney  Island;  and,  in  the  second  place,  with 
all  the  eggs  which  we  got  it,  they  could  always 
entertain  their  fellers  here  in  such  a  fine,  big  kitchen, 
which  I  am  telling  my  girl,  Lena:  'So  long  as  you 
give  'em  omelets  or  fried  eggs  mit  fat,  Lena,  I  don't 
care  how  many  eggs  you  use  —  aber  butter  is  butter 
in  Burgess  Park  oder  Harlem.' " 

In  this  vein  Mrs.  Ortelsburg  continued  for  more 
than  an  hour,  while  she  conducted  Yetta  to  the 


2i4  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

kitchen  and  cellar  and  back  again  to  the  bedrooms 
above  stairs,  until  she  decided  that  sufficient  interest 
had  been  aroused  to  justify  the  more  robust  method 
of  her  husband.  She  therefore  returned  to  the 
library,  and  therewith  began  for  Benno  Ortelsburg 
the  real  business  of  the  afternoon. 

"Well,  boys,"  he  said,  "I  guess  we  would  quit 
pinocle  for  a  while  and  join  the  ladies." 

He  chose  for  this  announcement  a  moment 
when  Elkan's  chips  showed  a  profit  of  five  dollars; 
and  as,  in  his  capacity  of  banker,  he  adjusted  the 
losses  of  the  other  players,  he  kept  up  a  merry 
conversation  directed  at  Mrs.  Lubliner. 

"Here  in  Burgess  Park,"  he  said,  "we  play  pinocle 
and  we  leave  it  alone;  while  in  the  city  when  a 
couple  business  men  play  pinocle  they  spend  a  day 
at  it  —  and  why?  Because  they  only  get  a  chance 
to  play  pinocle  once  in  a  while  occasionally.  Every 
night  they  are  going  to  theaytre  oder  a  lodge  affair, 
understand  me;  whereas  here,  the  train  service 
at  night  not  being  so  extra  elegant,  y'understand, 
we  got  good  houses  and  we  stay  in  'em;  which  in 
Burgess  Park  after  half-past  seven  in  the  evening 
any  one  could  find  a  dozen  pinocle  games  to  play 
in  —  and  all  of  'em  breaks  up  by  half-past  ten 
already." 

With  this  tribute  to  the  transit  facilities  and 
domesticity  of  Burgess  Park,  he  concluded  stacking 
up  the  chips  and  turned  to  Mrs.  Lubliner. 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  215 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Lubliner,"  he  continued  with  an 
amiable  smile,  "if-  you  wouldn't  persuade  your 
husband  to  move  out  to  Burgess  Park,  understand 
me,  I  shall  consider  it  you  don't  like  our  house 
here  at  all." 

"But  I  do  like  your  house!"  Yetta  protested. 

"I  should  hope  so,"  Benno  continued,  "on 
account  it  would  be  a  poor  compliment  to  a  lot  of 
people  which  could  easy  be  good  customers  of  your 
husband.  For  instance,  this  house  was  decorated 
by  Robitscher,  Smith  &  Company,  which  Robitscher 
lives  across  the  street  already;  and  his  wife  is  Joel 
Ribnik's  —  the  McKinnon-Weldon  Drygoods  Com- 
pany's —  a  sister  already." 

"You  don't  tell  me?"  Yetta  murmured. 

"And  Joel  is  staying  with  'em  right  now,"  Benno 
went  on.  "Furthermore,  we  got  our  furniture 
and  carpets  by  Sig  Tarnowitz,  which  he  lives 
a  couple  of  doors  down  from  here  —  also  got 
relatives  in  the  retail  drygoods  business  by  the 
name  Tarnowitz- Wixman  Drygoods  Company.  The 
brother,  Julius  Tarnowitz,  is  eating  dinner  with 
'em  to-day." 

"It's  a  regular  buyers'  colony  here,  so  to  speak," 
Louis  Stout  said,  and  Joseph  Kamin  nodded. 

"Tell  you  what  you  do,  Benno,"  Joseph  suggested. 
"Get  Tarnowitz  and  Ribnik  to  come  over  here. 
I  think  Elkan  would  like  to  meet  them." 

Benno  slapped  his  thigh  with  a  resounding  blow. 


216  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"That's  a  great  idee!"  he  cried;  and  half  an  hour 
later  the  Ortelsburg  library  was  thronged  with 
visitors,  for  not  only  Joel  Ribnik  and  Julius  Tarno- 
witz  had  joined  Benno's  party,  but  seated  in  easy 
chairs  were  Robitscher,  the  decorator,  and  Tarnowitz, 
the  furniture  dealer. 

"Yes,  siree,  sir!"  Robitscher  cried.  "Given  the 
same  decorative  treatment  to  that  Linden  Boulevard 
house,  Mr.  Lubliner,  and  it  would  got  Ortelsburg's 
house  here  skinned  to  pieces,  on  account  over  there 
it  is  more  open  and  catches  the  sun  afternoon  and 
morning  both." 

During  this  pronouncement  Elkan's  face  wore  a 
ghastly  smile  and  he  underwent  the  sensations 
of  the  man  in  the  tonneau  of  a  touring  car  which 
is  beginning  to  skid  toward  a  telegraph  pole. 

"In  that  case  I  should  recommend  you  don't 
buy  a  Kermanshah  rug  for  the  front  room,"  Sigmund 
Tarnowitz  interrupted.  "I  got  in  my  place  right 
now  an  antique  Beloochistan,  which  I  would  let 
go  at  only  four  hundred  dollars." 

" Aber  four  hundred  dollars  is  an  awful  lot  of 
money  to  pay  for  a  rug,"  Elkan  protested.  He  had 
avoided  looking  at  Yetta  for  the  past  half-hour; 
but  now  he  glanced  fearfully  at  her,  and  in  doing 
so  received  a  distinct  shock,  for  Yetta  sat  with 
shining  eyes  and  flushed  cheeks,  inoculated  be- 
yond remedy  with  the  virus  of  the  artistic-home 
fever. 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  217 

"Four  hundred  ain't  so  much  for  a  rug,"  she 
declared. 

"Not  for  an  antique  Beloochistan,"  Sig  Tarno- 
witz  said,  "because  every  year  it  would  increase 
in  value  on  you." 

"Just  the  same  like  that  Linden  Boulevard 
house,"  Ortelsburg  added,  "which  you  could  take 
it  from  me,  Mrs.  Lubliner,  if  you  don't  get  right 
away  an  offer  of  five  hundred  dollars  advance 
on  your  purchase  price  I  would  eat  the  house, 
plumbing  and  all." 

At  the  word  "plumbing"  Glaubmann  started 
visibly. 

"The  plumbing  would  be  fixed  so  good  as  new," 
he  said;  "and  I  tell  you  what  I  would  do  also,  Mr. 
Lubliner  —  I  would  pay  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  deco- 
rations if  Mr.  Ortelsburg  would  make  me  an  allow- 
ance of  a  hundred  dollars  on  the  commission  1" 

"Could  anything  be  fairer  than  this?"  Ortelsburg 
exclaimed;  and  he  grinned  maliciously  as  Louis 
Stout  succumbed  to  a  fit  of  coughing. 

"But  we  ain't  even  seen  the  house!"  Elkan  cried. 

"Never  mind  we  ain't  seen  it,"  Yetta  said;  "if 
the  house  is  the  same  like  this  that's  all  I  care  about." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Elkan  replied;  "but  I  want 
to  see  the  house  first  before  I  would  even  commence 
to  think  of  buying  it." 

"Schon  gut!"  Glaubmann  said.  "I  ain't  got  no 
objection  to  show  you  the  house  from  the  outside; 


218  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

aber  there  is  at  present  people  living  in  the  house, 
understand  me,  which  for  the  present  we  couldn't 
go  inside." 

"Mr.  Lubliner  don't  want  to  see  the  inside, 
Glaubmann!"  Ortelsburg  cried,  in  tones  implying 
that  he  deprecated  Glaubmann's  suggestion  as 
impugning  Elkan's  good  faith  in  the  matter.  "The 
inside  would  be  repaired  and  decorated  to  suit, 
Mr.  Glaubmann,  but  the  outside  he's  got  a  right 
to  see;  so  we  would  all  go  round  there  and  give  a 
look." 

Ten  minutes  afterward  a  procession  of  nine 
persons  passed  through  the  streets  of  Burgess  Park 
and  lingered  on  the  sidewalk  opposite  Glaubmann's 
house.  There  Ortelsburg  descanted  on  the  compara- 
tively high  elevation  of  Linden  Boulevard  and  Mrs. 
Ortelsburg  pointed  out  the  chicken-raising  possi- 
bilities of  the  back  lot;  and,  after  gazing  at  the 
shrubbery  and  incipient  shade  trees  that  were 
planted  in  the  front  yard,  the  line  of  march  was 
resumed  in  the  direction  of  Burgess  Park's  business 
neighbourhood.  Another  pause  was  made  at  Mrs-. 
J.  Kaplin's  delicatessen  store;  and,  laden  with 
packages  of  smoked  tongue,  Swiss  cheese  and 
dill  pickles,  the  procession  returned  to  the  Ortels- 
burg residence  marshalled  by  Benno  Ortelsburg, 
who  wielded  as  a  baton  a  ten-cent  loaf  of  rye 
bread. 

Thus   the   remainder  of  the   evening  was   spent 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  219 

in  feasting  and  more  pinocle  until  nearly  midnight, 
when  Elkan  and  Yetta  returned  to  town  on  the 
last  train.  Hence,  with  his  late  homecoming  and 
the  Ortelsburgs'  delicatessen  supper,  Elkan  slept 
ill  that  night,  so  that  it  was  past  nine  o'clock  before 
he  arrived  at  his  office  the  following  morning. 
Instead  of  the  satirical  greeting  which  he  antici- 
pated from  his  senior  partner,  however,  he  was 
received  with  unusual  cordiality  by  Polatkin,  whose 
face  was  spread  in  a  grin. 

"Well,  Elkan,"  he  said,  "you  done  a  good  job 
when  you  decided  to  buy  that  house." 

"When  I  decided  to  buy  the  house?  Who  says 
I  decided  to  buy  the  house?"  Elkan  cried. 

"J.  Kamin  did,"  Polatkin  explained.  "He  was 
here  by  a  quarter  to  eight  already;  and  not  alone 
J.  Kamin  was  here,  but  Joel  Ribnik  and  Julius 
Tarnowitz  comes  in  also.  Scheikowitz  and  me  has 
been  on  the  jump,  I  bet  yer;  in  fact,  Scheikowitz 
is  in  there  now  with  J.  Kamin  and  Tarnowitz. 
Between  'em,  those  fellers  has  picked  out  four 
thousand  dollars'  goods." 

Elkan  looked  at  his  partner  in  unfeigned  aston- 
ishment. 

"So  soon?  "  he  said. 

"Ribnik  too,"  Polatkin  continued.  "He  makes 
a  selection  of  nine  hundred  dollars'  goods  —  among 
'em  a  couple  stickers  like  them  styles  2040  and 
2041.  He  says  he  is  coming  back  in  half  an  hour, 


220  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

on  account  he's  got  an  appointment  with  a  brother- 
in-law  of  his." 

"By  the  name  Robitscher?"  Elkan  asked. 

"That's  the  feller,"  Polatkin  answered.  "Ribnik 
says  you  promised  Robitscher  the  decorations  from 
the  house  you  are  buying." 

"What  d'ye  mean  I  promised  him  the  decorations 
from  the  house  I  am  buying?"  Elkan  exclaimed 
in  anguished  tones.  "In  the  first  place,  I  ain't 
promised  him  nothing  of  the  kind;  and,  in  the 
second  place,  I  ain't  even  bought  the  house  yet." 

"That  part  will  be  fixed  up  all  right,"  Polatkin 
replied,  "because  Mr.  Glaubmann  rings  up  half 
an  hour  ago,  and  he  says  that  so  soon  as  we  need 
him  and  the  lawyer  we  should  telephone  for  'em." 

For  a  brief  interval  Elkan  choked  with  rage. 

"Say,  lookyhere,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  he  sputtered 
at  last,  "who  is  going  to  live  in  this  house  —  you 
oder  me?" 

"You  are  going  to  live  in  the  house,  Elkan," 
Polatkin  declared,  "because  me  I  don't  need  a  house. 
I  already  got  one  house,  Elkan,  and  I  ain't  twins 
exactly;  and  also  them  fellers  is  very  plain  about 
it,  Elkan,  which  they  told  me  and  Scheikowitz 
up  and  down,  that  if  you  wouldn't  buy  the  house 
they  wouldn't  confirm  us  the  orders." 

At  this  juncture  Scheikowitz  entered  the  office. 
From  the  doorway  of  the  showroom  he  had  observed 
the  discussion  between  Elkan  and  his  partner;  and 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  221 

he  had  entirely  deserted  his  prospective  customers 
to  aid  in  Elkan's  coercion. 

"Polatkin  is  right,  Elkan!"  he  cried.  "You  got 
to  consider  Louis  Stout  also.  Kamin  said  he  would 
never  forgive  us  if  the  deal  didn't  go  through." 

Elkan  bit  his  lips  irresolutely. 

"I  don't  see  what  you  are  hesitating  about," 
Polatkin  went  on.  "Yetta  likes  the  house  —  ain't 
it?" 

"She's  crazy  about  it,"  Elkan  admitted. 

"Then  what's  the  use  talking?"  Scheikowitz  de- 
clared; and  he  glanced  anxiously  toward  Tarno- 
witz  and  Kamin,  who  were  holding  a  whispered 
conference  in  the  showroom.  "Let's  make  an  end 
and  get  the  thing  over.  Telephone  this  here 
Glaubmann  he  should  come  right  over  with  Ortels- 
burg  and  the  lawyer." 

"But  ain't  I  going  to  have  no  lawyer  neither?" 
Elkan  demanded. 

"Sure  you  are,"  Scheikowitz  replied.  "I  took 
a  chance,  Elkan,  and  I  telephoned  Henry  D.  Feld- 
man  half  an  hour  since  already.  He  says  he  would 
send  one  up  of  his  assistants,  Mr.  Harvey  J.  Sugar- 
berg,  right  away." 

When  it  came  to  drawing  a  real-estate  contract 
there  existed  for  Kent  J.  Goldstein  no  incongruities 
of  time  and  place.  Kent  was  the  veteran  of  a  dozen 
real-estate  booms,  during  which  he  had  drafted 


222  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

agreements  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night,'  impro- 
vising as  his  office  the  back  room  of  a  liquor  saloon 
or  the  cigar  counter  of  a  barber  shop;  and,  in  default 
of  any  other  writing  material,  he  was  quite  prepared 
to  tattoo  a  brief  though  binding  agreement  with 
gunpowder  on  the  skin  of  the  vendor's  back. 

Thus  the  transaction  between  Glaubmann  and 
Elkan  Lubliner  presented  no  difficulties  to  Kent 
J.  Goldstein;  and  he  handled  the  details  with  such 
care  and  dispatch  that  the  contract  was  nearly 
finished  before  Harvey  J.  Sugarberg  remembered 
the  instructions  of  his  principal.  As  attorney  for 
the  buyer,  it  was  Henry  D.  Feldman's  practice 
to  see  that  the  contract  of  sale  provided  every 
opportunity  for  his  client  lawfully  to  avoid  taking 
title  should  he  desire  for  any  reason,  lawful  or 
unlawful,  to  back  out;  and  this  rule  of  his  principal 
occurred  to  Harvey  just  as  he  and  Goldstein  were 
writing  the  clause  relating  to  incumbrances. 

"The  premises  are  to  be  conveyed  free  and  clear 
of  all  incumbrances,"  Kent  read  aloud,  "except 
the  mortgage  and  covenant  against  nuisances  above 
described  and  the  present  tenancies  of  said  premises." 

He  had  brought  with  him  two  blank  forms  of 
agreement;  and  as  he  filled  in  the  blanks  on  one  of 
them  he  read  aloud  what  he  was  writing  and  Harvey 
Sugarberg  inserted  the  same  clause  in  the  other. 
Up  to  this  juncture  Harvey  had  taken  Kent's 
dictation  with  such  remarkable  docility  that  Elkan 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  223 

and  his  partners  had  frequently  exchanged  disquiet- 
ing glances,  and  they  were  correspondingly  elated 
when  Harvey  at  length  balked. 

"One  moment,  Mr.  Goldstein,"  he  said  —  and, 
but  for  a  slight  nervousness,  he  reproduced  with 
histrionic  accuracy  the  tone  and  gesture  of  his  em- 
ployer—  "as  locum  tenens  for  my  principal  I  must 
decline  to  insert  the  phrase,  'and  the  present  tenan- 
cies of  said  premises."1 

Kent  wasted  no  time  in  forensic  dispute  when 
engaged  in  a  real-estate  transaction,  though,  if 
necessary,  he  could  make  kindling  of  the  strongest 
rail  that  ever  graced  the  front  of  a  jury-box. 

"How  'bout  it,  Glaubmann?"  he  said.  "The 
premises  is  occupied  —  ain't  they?" 

Glaubmann  flapped  his  right  hand  in  a  gesture 
of  laissez-faire. 

"The  feller  moves  out  by  the  first  of  next  month," 
he  said;  and  Kent  turned  to  Elkan. 

"Are  you  satisfied  that  the  tenant  stays  in  the 
house  until  the  first?"  he  asked.  "That  will  be 
three  days  after  the  contract  is  closed." 

Elkan  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Why  not?"  he  said. 

"All  right,  Mr.-  Forget  your  name!"  Kent 

cried.  "Cut  out  'and  the  present  tenancies  of  said 
premises. ": 

At  this  easy  victory  a  shade  of  disappointment 
passed  over  the  faces  of  Harvey  Sugarberg  and  his 


224  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

clients,  and  the  contract  proceeded  without  further 
objection  to  its  rapid  conclusion. 

"Now  then,  my  friends,"  Kent  announced  briskly, 
"we're  ready  for  the  signatures." 

At  this,  the  crucial  point  of  all  real-estate  trans- 
actions, a  brief  silence  fell  upon  the  assembled 
company,  which  included  not  only  the  attorneys 
and  the  clients,  but  Ortelsburg,  Kamin,  Tarnowitz 
and  Ribnik  as  well.  Finally  Glaubmann  seized  a 
pen,  and,  jabbing  it  viciously  in  an  inkpot,  he  made 
a  John  Hancock  signature  at  the  foot  of  the  agree- 
ment's last  page. 

"Now,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  Kent  said  —  and  Elkan 
hesitated. 

"Ain't  we  going  to  wait  for  Louis  Stout?"  he 
asked;  and  immediately  there  was  a  roar  of  protest 
that  sounded  like  a  mob  scene  in  a  Drury  Lane 
melodrama. 

"If  Louis  Stout  ain't  here  it's  his  own  fault," 
Ortelsburg  declared;  and  Ribnik,  Tarnowitz,  and 
Kamin  glowered  in  unison. 

"I  guess  he's  right,  Elkan,"  Polatkin  murmured. 

"It  is  his  own  fault  if  he  ain't  here,"  Scheikowitz 
agreed  feebly;  and,  thus  persuaded,  Elkan  appended 
a  small  and,  by  contrast  with  Glaubmann's,  a 
wholly  unimpressive  signature  to  the  agreement. 
Immediately  thereafter  Elkan  passed  over  a  certified 
check  for  eight  hundred  dollars,  according  to  the 
terms  of  the  contract,  which  provided  that  the 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  225 

title  be  closed  in  twenty  days  at  the  office  of  Henry 
D.  Feldman. 

"Well,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  Glaubmann  said,  employing 
the  formula  hallowed  by  long  usage  in  all  real  -  estate 
tansactions  involving  improved  property,  "I  wish 
you  luck  in  your  new  house." 

"Much  obliged,"  Elkan  said;  and  after  a  general 
handshaking  the  entire  assemblage  crowded  into 
one  elevator,  so  that  finally  Elkan  was  left  alone 
with  his  partners. 

Polatkin  was  the  first  to  break  a  silence  of  over 
five  minutes'  duration. 

"Ain't  it  funny,"  he  said,  "that  we  ain't  heard 
from  Louis?" 

Scheikowitz  nodded;  and  as  he  did  so  the  elevator 
door  creaked  noisily  and  there  alighted  a  short, 
stout  person,  who,  having  once  been  described  in 
the  I.  O.  M.  A.  Monthly  as  Benjamin  J.  Flugel, 
the  Merchant  Prince,  had  never  since  walked 
abroad  save  in  a  freshly  ironed  silk  hat  and  a  Prince 
Albert  coat. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Flugel?"  Polatkin 
and  Scheikowitz  cried  with  one  voice,  and  Mr. 
Flugel  bowed.  Albeit  a  tumult  raged  within  his 
breast,  he  remained  outwardly  the  dignified  man 
of  business;  and,  as  Elkan  viewed  for  the  first  time 
Louis  Stout's  impressive  partner,  he  could  not  help 
congratulating  himself  on  the  mercantile  sagacity 
that  had  made  him  buy  Glaubmann's  house. 


226  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"And  this  is  Mr.  Lubliner?"  Flugel  said  in  even 
tones. 

"Pleased  to  meet  you,"  Elkan  said.  "I  had 
dinner  with  your  partner  only  yesterday." 

Flugel  gulped  convulsively  in  an  effort  to  remain 
calm. 

"I  know  it,"  he  said;  "and  honestly  the  longer 
I  am  in  business  with  that  feller  the  more  I  got 
to  wonder  what  a  Schlemiel  he  is.  Actually  he  goes 
to  work  and  tries  to  do  his  own  partner  without 
knowing  it  at  all.  Mind  you,  if  he  would  be  doing 
it  from  spite  I  could  understand  it;  but  when  one 
partner  don't  know  that  the  other  partner  practically 
closes  a  deal  for  a  tract  of  a  hundred  lots  and  six 
houses  in  Johnsonhurst,  and  then  persuades  a 
prospective  purchaser  that,  instead  of  buying  in 
Johnsonhurst,  he  should  buy  in  Burgess  Park, 
understand  me,  all  I  got  to  say  is  that  if  Louis 
Stout  ain't  crazy  the  least  he  deserves  is  that 
the  feller  really  and  truly  should  buy  in  Burgess 
Park." 

"But,  Mr.  Flugel,"  Elkan  interrupted,  "I  did 
buy  in  Burgess  Park." 

"What!  "Flugel  shouted. 

"I  say  that  I  made  a  contract  for  a  house  out  there 
this  morning  only,"  Elkan  said. 

For  a  few  seconds  it  seemed  as  though  Benjamin 
J.  Flugel's  heirs-at-law  would  collect  a  substantial 
death  benefit  from  the  I.  O.  M.  A.,  but  the  impending 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  227 

apoplexy  was  warded  off  by  a  tremendous  burst 
of  profanity. 

"  Aber,  Mr.  Flugel,"  Scheikowitz  protested,  "Louis 
tells  us  only  last  Saturday,  understand  me,  you  told 
him  that  Johnsonhurst  you  wouldn't  touch  at  all, 
on  account  such  lowlifes  like  Rabiner  and  Pasinsky 
lives  out  there!" 

"I  know  I  told  him  that,"  Flugel  yelled;  "because, 
if  I  would  say  I  am  going  to  buy  out  there,  Stout 
goes  to  work  and  blabs  it  all  over  the  place,  and 
the  first  thing  you  know  they  would  jump  the 
price  on  me  a  few  thousand  dollars.  He's  a  dan- 
gerous feller,  Louis  is,  Mr.  Scheikowitz  I" 

Elkan  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"That  may  be,  Mr.  Flugel,"  he  said,  "but  I  signed 
the  contract  with  Glaubmann  for  his  house  on 
Linden  Boulevard  —  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it!" 

Polatkin  and  Scheikowitz  nodded  in  melancholy 
unison. 

"Do  you  got  the  contract  here?"  Flugel  asked; 
and  Elkan  picked  up  the  document  from  his  desk, 
where  it  had  been  placed  by  Goldstein. 

"You  paid  a  fancy  price  for  the  house,"  Flugel 
continued,  as  he  examined  the  agreement. 

"I  took  your  partner's  advice,  Mr.  Flugel," 
Elkan  retorted. 

"Why,  for  eighteen  thousand  five  hundred  dollars, 
in  Johnsonhurst,"  Flugel  continued,  "I  could  give 
you  a  palace  already!" 


228  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

He  scanned  the  various  clauses  of  the  contract 
with  the  critical  eye  of  an  experienced  real-estate 
operator;  and  before  he  had  completed  his  examina- 
tion the  elevator  door  again  creaked  open. 

"Is  Glaubmann  gone?"  cried  a  voice  from  the 
interior  of  the  car,  and  the  next  moment  Kovner 
alighted. 

Flugel  looked  up  from  the  contract. 

"Hello,  Kovner,"  he  said,  "are  you  in  this  deal 
too?" 

"I  ain't  in  any  deal,"  Kovner  replied.  "I  am 
looking  for  Barnett  Glaubmann.  They  told  me 
in  his  office  he  is  coming  over  here  and  would  be 
here  all  the  morning." 

"Well,  he  was  here,"  Elkan  replied,  "but  he  went 
away  again." 

Kovner  sat  down  without  invitation. 

"It  ain't  no  more  as  I  expected,"  he  began  in  the 
dull,  resigned  tones  of  a  man  with  a  grievance. 
"That  swindler  has  been  dodging  me  for  four  months 
now,  and  I  guess  he  will  keep  on  dodging  me  for 
the  rest  of  the  year  that  he  claims  I  got  a  lease  on 
his  house  for." 

"What  house?"  Flugel  asked. 

"The  house  which  I  am  living  in  it,"  Max 
replied  —  "on  Linden  Boulevard,  Burgess  Park." 

"On  Linden  Boulevard,  Burgess  Park!"  Flugel 
repeated.  "Why,  then  it's  the  same  house  —  ain't 
it,  Lubliner?" 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  229 

Elkan  nodded,  and  as  he  did  so  Flugel  struck 
the  desk  a  tremendous  blow  with  his  fist. 

"Fine!"  he  ejaculated. 

"Fine!"  Kovner  repeated.  "What  the  devil 
you  are  talking  about,  fine?  Do  you  think  it's 
fine  I  should  got  to  live  a  whole  year  in  a  house 
which  the  least  it  must  got  to  be  spent  on  it  is  for 
plumbing  a  hundred  dollars  and  for  painting  a  couple 
hundred  more?" 

"That's  all  right,"  Flugel  declared  with  enthusi- 
asm. "It  ain't  so  bad  as  it  looks;  because  if  you 
can  show  that  you  got  a  right  to  stay  in  that  house 
for  the  rest  of  the  year,  understand  me,  I'll  make  a 
proposition  to  you." 

"Show  it?"  Kovner  exclaimed.  "I  don't  got  to 
show  it,  because  I  couldn't  help  myself,  Mr.  Flugel. 
Glaubmann  claims  that  I  made  a  verbal  lease  for 
one  year,  and  he's  right.  I  was  fool  enough  to 
do  so." 

Flugel  glanced  inquiringly  at  Polatkin  and  Schei- 
kowitz. 

"How  about  that?"  he  asked.  "The  contract 
don't  say  nothing  about  a  year's  lease." 

"I  know  it  don't,"  Elkan  replied,  "because 
when  our  lawyer  raises  the  question  about  the 
tenant  Glaubmann  says  he  could  get  him  out  at 
any  time." 

"And  he  can  too,"  Kovner  declared  with  em- 
phasis, but  Flugel  shook  his  head. 


23o  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"No,  he  can't,  Kovner,"  he  said;  "or,  anyway, 
he  ain't  going  to,  because  you  are  going  to  stay 
in  that  house." 

"With  the  rotten  plumbing  it's  got?"  Kovner 
cried.  "Not  by  a  whole  lot  I  ain't." 

"The  plumbing  could  be  fixed  and  the  painting 
also,"  Flugel  retorted. 

"By  Glaubmann?"  Kovner  asked. 

"Mo,  sir,"  Flugel  replied;  "by  me,  with  a  hundred 
dollars  cash  to  boot.  I  would  even  give  you  an 
order  on  my  plumber  he  should  fix  up  the  plumbing 
and  on  my  house  painter  he  should  fix  up  the 
painting,  Kovner;  aber  you  got  to  stick  it  out  that 
you  are  under  lease  for  the  rest  of  the  year." 

"And  when  do  I  get  the  work  done?"  Kovner 
demanded. 

"To-day,"  Flugel  announced  —  "this  afternoon  if 
you  want  it." 

"But  hold  on  there  a  minute!"  Elkan  protested. 
"If  I  am  going  to  take  that  house  I  don't  want 
no  painting  done  there  till  I  am  good  and  ready." 

Flugel  smiled  loftily  at  Elkan. 

"You  ain't  going  to  take  that  house  at  all,"  he 
said,  "because  the  contract  says  that  it  is  to  be 
conveyed  free  and  clear,  except  the  mortgage  and 
a  covenant  against  nuisances.  So  you  reject  the 
title  on  the  grounds  that  the  house  is  leased  for  a 
year.  Do  you  get  the  idee?" 

Elkan  nodded. 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  231 

"And  next  Sunday/'  Flugel  continued,  "I  wish 
you'd  take  a  run  down  with  me  in  my  oitermo- 
bile  to  Johnsonhurst.  It's  an  elegant,  high-class 
suburb." 

Insomnia  bears  the  same  relation  to  the  calling 
of  real-estate  operators  that  fossyjaw  does  to  the 
worker  in  the  match  industry;  and,  during  the  twenty 
days  that  preceded  the  closing  of  his  contract  with 
Elkan,  Barnett  Glaubmann  spent  many  a  sleepless 
night  in  contemplation  of  disputed  brokerage  claims 
by  Kamin,  Stout  and  Ortelsburg.  Moreover,  the 
knowledge  that  Henry  D.  Feldman  represented 
the  purchaser  was  an  influence  far  from  sedative; 
and  what  little  sleep  Glaubmann  secured  was  filled 
with  nightmares  of  fence  encroachments,  defects  in 
the  legal  proceedings  for  opening  of  Linden  Boule- 
vard as  a  public  highway,  and  a  score  of  other 
technical  objections  that  Feldman  might  raise  to 
free  Elkan  from  his  contract. 

Not  once,  however,  did  Glaubmann  consider  the 
tenancy  of  Max  Kovner  as  any  objection  to  title. 
Indeed,  he  was  so  certain  of  Kovner's  willingness  to 
move  out  that  he  even  pondered  the  advisability 
of  gouging  Max  for  twenty-five  or  fifty  dollars  as 
a  consideration  for  accepting  a  surrender  of  the 
verbal  lease;  and  to  that  end  he  avoided  the  Linden 
Boulevard  house  until  the  morning  before  the  date 
set  for  the  closing  of  the  title. 


232  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Then,  having  observed  Max  board  the  eight-five 
train  for  Brooklyn  Bridge,  he  sauntered  off  to  inter- 
view Mrs.  Kovner;  and  as  he  turned  the  corner  of 
Linden  Boulevard  he  sketched  out  a  plan  of  action 
that  had  for  its  foundation  the  complete  intimida- 
tion of  Mrs.  Kovner.  This  being  secured,  he  would 
proceed  to  suggest  the  payment  of  fifty  dollars  as 
the  alternative  of  strong  measures  against  Max 
Kovner  for  allowing  the  Linden  Boulevard  premises 
to  fall  into  such  bad  repair;  and  he  was  so  full  of 
his  idea  that  he  had  begun  to  ascend  the  front 
stoop  of  the  Kovner  house  before  he  noticed  the 
odour  of  fresh  paint. 

Never  in  the  history  of  the  Kovner  house  had 
the  electric  bell  been  in  working  order.  Hence 
Glaubmann  knocked  with  his  naked  fist  and  left 
the  imprint  of  his  four  knuckles  on  the  wet  varnish 
just  as  Mrs.  Kovner  flung  wide  the  door.  It  was 
at  this  instant  that  Glaubmann's  well-laid  plans 
were  swept  away. 

"Now  see  what  you  done,  you  dirty  slob  you!" 
she  bellowed.  "What's  the  matter  with  you? 
Couldn't  you  ring  the  bell?" 

"Why,  Mrs.  Kovner,"  Glaubmann  stammered, 
"the  bell  don't  ring  at  all.  Ain't  it?" 

"The  bell  don't  ring?"  Mrs.  Kovner  exclaimed. 
"Who  says  it  don't?" 

She  pressed  the  button  with  her  finger  and  a 
shrill  response  came  from  within. 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  233 

"Who  fixed  it?"  Glaubmann  asked. 

"Who  fixed  it?"  Mrs.  Kovner  repeated.  "Who 
do  you  suppose  fixed  it?  Do  you  think  we  got 
from  charity  to  fix  it?  Gott  sei  Dank,  we  ain't 
exactly  beggars,  Mr.  Glaubmann.  Ourselves  we 
fixed  it,  Mr.  Glaubmann  —  and  the  painting  and 
the  plumbing  also;  because  if  you  would  got  in 
savings  bank  what  I  got  it,  Mr.  Glaubmann,  you 
wouldn't  make  us  so  much  trouble  about  paying 
for  a  couple  hundred  dollars'  repairs." 

"Aber"  Glaubmann  began,  "you  shouldn't  of 
done  it!" 

"I  know  we  shouldn't,"  Mrs.  Kovner  replied. 
"We  should  of  stayed  here  the  rest  of  the  year 
with  the  place  looking  like  a  pigsty  already!  Aber 
don't  kick  till  you  got  to,  Mr.  Glaubmann.  It  would 
be  time  enough  to  say  something  when  we  sue  you 
by  the  court  yet  that  you  should  pay  for  the  repairs 
we  are  making  here." 

Glaubmann  pushed  his  hat  back  from  his  forehead 
and  wiped  his  streaming  brow. 

"Nu,  Mrs.  Kovner,"  he  said  at  last,  "it  seems  to 
me  we  got  a  misunderstanding  all  round  here.  I 
would  like  to  talk  the  matter  over  with  you." 

With  this  conciliatory  prelude  he  assumed  an  easy 
attitude  by  crossing  his  legs  and  supporting  himself 
with  one  hand  on  the  freshly  painted  doorjamb, 
whereat  Mrs.  Kovner  uttered  a  horrified  shriek, 
and  the  rage  which  three  weeks  of  housepainters' 


234  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

clutter  had  fomented  in  her  bosom  burst  forth 
unchecked. 

"Out  from  here,  you  dirty  loafer  you!"  she 
shrieked,  and  grabbed  a  calcimining  brush  from 
one  of  the  many  paintpots  that  bestrewed  the  hall- 
way. Glaubmann  bounded  down  the  front  stoop 
to  the  sidewalk  just  as  Mrs.  Kovner  made  a  fren- 
zied pass  at  him  with  the  brush;  and  conse- 
quently, when  he  entered  Kent  J.  Goldstein's 
office  on  Nassau  Street  an  hour  later,  his  black 
overcoat  was  speckled  like  the  hide  of  an  axis 
deer. 

"Goldstein,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "is  it  assault 
that  some  one  paints  you  from  head  to  foot  with 
calcimine?" 

"It  is  if  you  got  witnesses,"  Goldstein  replied; 
"otherwise  it's  misfortune.  Who  did  it?" 

"That  she-devil  —  the  wife  of  the  tenant  in  that 
house  I  sold  Lubliner,"  Glaubmann  replied.  "I 
think  we're  going  to  have  trouble  with  them  people, 
Goldstein." 

"You  will  if  you  try  to  sue  'em  without  witnesses, 
Glaubmann,"  Goldstein  observed;  "because  suing 
without  witnesses  is  like  trying  to  play  pinocle 
without  cards.  It  can't  be  done." 

Glaubmann  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"I  ain't  going  to  sue  'em,"  he  said.  "I  ain't 
so  fond  of  lawsuits  like  all  that;  and,  besides,  a  little 
calcimine  is  nothing,  Goldstein,  to  what  them  people 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  235 

can  do  to  me.  They're  going  to  claim  they  got 
there  a  year's  verbal  lease." 

Goldstein  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  commented.  "They  want 
to  gouge  you  for  fifty  dollars  or  so;  and,  with  the 
price  you're  getting  for  the  house,  Glaubmann, 
you  can  afford  to  pay  'em." 

"Gouge  nothing!"  Glaubmann  declared.  "They 
just  got  done  there  a  couple  hundred  dollars'  painting 
and  plumbing,  y'understand,  and  they're  going  to 
stick  it  out." 

Goldstein  pursed  his  lips  in  an  ominous  whistle. 

"A  verbal  lease,  hey?"  he  muttered. 

Glaubmann  nodded  sadly. 

"And  this  time  there  is  witnesses,"  he  said;  and  he 
related  to  his  attorney  the  circumstances  under  which 
the  original  lease  was  made,  together  with  the  inci- 
dent attending  Kovner's  visit  to  Ortelsburg's  house. 

"It  looks  like  you're  up  against  it,  Glaubmann," 
Goldstein  declared. 

"But  couldn't  I  claim  that  I  was  only  bluffing 
the  feller?"  Glaubmann  asked. 

"Sure  you  could,"  Goldstein  replied;  "but  when 
Kovner  went  to  work  and  painted  the  house  and 
fixed  the  plumbing  he  called  your  bluff,  Glaubmann; 
so  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  ask  for  an  adjournment 
to-morrow." 

"And  suppose  they  won't  give  it  to  us?"  Glaub- 
mann asked. 


236  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Goldstein  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I'm  a  lawyer,  Glaubmann  —  not  a  prophet," 
he  said;  "but  if  I  know  Henry  D.  Feldman  you 
won't  get  any  adjournment  —  so  you  may  as  well 
make  your  plans  accordingly." 

For  a  brief  interval  Glaubmann  nodded  his  head 
slowly,  and  then  he  burst  into  a  mirthless  laugh. 

"Real  estate,"  he  said,  "that's  something  to  own. 
Rheumatism  is  a  fine  asset  compared  to  it;  in  fact 
if  some  one  gives  me  my  choice,  Goldstein,  I  would 
say  rheumatism  every  time.  Both  of  'em  keep 
you  awake  nights;  but  there's  one  thing  about 
rheumatism,  Goldstein"  —  here  he  indulged  in 
another  bitter  laugh  —  "you  don't  need  a  lawyer 
to  get  rid  of  it!"  he  said,  and  banged  the  door 
behind  him. 

If  there  was  any  branch  of  legal  practice  in  which 
Henry  D.  Feldman  excelled  it  was  conveyancing, 
and  he  brought  to  it  all  the  histrionic  ability  that 
made  him  so  formidable  as  a  trial  lawyer.  Indeed, 
Feldman  was  accustomed  to  treat  the  conveyancing 
department  of  his  office  as  a  business-getter  for  the 
more  lucrative  field  of  litigation,  and  he  spared  no 
pains  to  make  each  closing  of  title  an  impressive 
and  dramatic  spectacle. 

Thus  the  mise-en-scene  of  the  Lubliner  closing 
was  excellent.  Feldman  himself  sat  in  a  baronial 
chair  at  the  head  of  his  library  table,  while  to  a 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  237 

seat  on  his  right  he  had  assigned  Kent  J.  Goldstein. 
On  his  left  he  had  placed  Mr.  Jones,  the  representa- 
tive of  the  title  company,  a  gaunt,  sandy-haired 
man  of  thirty-five  who,  by  the  device  of  a  pair  of 
huge  horn  spectacles,  had  failed  to  distract  public 
attention  from  an  utterly  stupendous  Adam's  apple. 

Next  to  the  title  company's  representative  were 
placed  Elkan  Lubliner  and  his  partners,  and  it  was 
to  them  that  Henry  D.  Feldman  addressed  his 
opening  remarks. 

"Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  said  in  the  soft  accents  in 
which  he  began  all  his  crescendos,  "the  examination 
of  the  record  title  to  Mr.  Glaubmann's  Linden 
Boulevard  premises  has  been  made  at  my  request 
by  the  Law  Title  Insurance  and  Guaranty-Company." 

He  made  a  graceful  obeisance  toward  Mr.  Jones, 
who  acknowledged  it  with  a  convulsion  of  his  Adam's 
apple. 

"I  have  also  procured  a  survey  to  be  made," 
Feldman  continued;  and,  amid  a  silence  that  was 
broken  only  by  the  heavy  breathing  of  Barnett 
Glaubmann,  he  held  up  an  intricate  design  washed 
with  watercolour  on  glazed  muslin. 

"Finally  I  have  done  this,"  he  declared,  and 
his  brows  gathered  in  a  tragic  frown  as  his  glance 
swept  in  turn  the  faces  of  Kent  J.  Goldstein,  Benno 
Ortelsburg,  J.  Kamin,  and  Glaubmann  —  "I  have 
procured  an  inspector's  report  upon  the  occupation 
of  the  locus  in  quo" 


238  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Oo-ee!"  Glaubmann  murmured,  and  Louis  Stout 
exchanged  triumphant  glances  with  Polatkin  and 
Scheikowitz. 

"And  I  find,"  Feldman  concluded,  "there  is  a 
tenant  in  possession,  claiming  under  a  year's  lease 
which  will  not  expire  until  October  first  next." 

Mr.  Jones  nodded  and  cleared  his  throat  so  noisily 
that,  to  relieve  his  embarrassment,  he  felt  obliged 
to  crack  each  of  his  knuckles  in  turn.  'As  for  Ribnik 
and  Tarnowitz,  they  sat  awestruck  in  the  rear  of 
Feldman's  spacious  library  and  felt  vaguely  that 
they  were  in  a  place  of  worship.  Only  Kent  J. 
Goldstein  remained  unimpressed;  and  in  order  to 
show  it  he  scratched  a  parlour  match  on  the  leg  of 
Feldman's  library  table;  whereat  Feldman's  ex- 
cathedra  manner  forsook  him. 

"Where  in  blazes  do  you  think  you  are,  Gold- 
stein?" he  asked  in  colloquial  tones  —  "in  a  bar- 
room ? " 

"If  it's  solid  mahogany,"  Goldstein  retorted, 
"it'll  rub  up  like  new.  I  think  you  were  talking 
about  the  tenancy  of  the  premises  here." 

Feldman  choked  down  his  indignation  and  once 
more  became  the  dignified  advocate. 

"That  is  not  the  only  objection  to  title,  Mr. 
Goldstein,"  he  said.  "Mr.  Jones,  kindly  read  the 
detailed  objections  contained  in  your  report  of 
closing." 

Mr.  Jones  nodded  again  and  responded  to  Feld- 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  339 

man's  demand  in  a  voice  that  profoundly  justified 
the  size  of  his  larynx. 

"Description  in  deed  dated  January  I,  1783," 
he  began,  "from  Joost  van  Gend  to  William  Wauters, 
is  defective;  one  course  reading  'thence  along  said 
ditch  north  to  a  white-oak  tree'  should  be  'south 
to  a  white-oak  tree.'>: 

"Well,  what's  the  difference?"  Goldstein  inter- 
rupted. "It's  monumented  by  the  white-oak  tree." 

"That  was  cut  down  long  ago,"  Mr.  Jones  said. 

"Not  by  me!"  Glaubmann  declared.  "I  give 
you  my  word,  gentlemen,  the  trees  on  the  lot  is  the 
same  like  I  bought  it." 

Feldman  allowed  his  eyes  to  rest  for  a  moment 
on  the  protesting  Glaubmann,  who  literally  crum- 
pled in  his  chair. 

"Proceed,  Mr.  Jones,"  Feldman  said  to  the  title 
company's  representative,  who  continued  without 
further  interruption  to  the  end  of  his  list.  This 
included  all  the  technical  objections  which  Glaub- 
mann had  feared,  as  well  as  a  novel  and  interesting 
point  concerning  a  partition  suit  in  Chancery, 
brought  in  1819,  and  affecting  Glaubmann's  chain 
of  title  to  a  strip  in  the  rear  of  his  lot,  measuring 
one  quarter  of  an  inch  in  breadth  by  seven  feet  in 
length. 

"So  far  as  I  can  see,  Feldman,"  Goldstein  com- 
mented as  Mr.  Jones  laid  down  his  report,  "the 
only  objection  that  will  hold  water  is  the  one  con- 


240  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

earning  Max  Kovner's  tenancy.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  have  witnesses  to  show  that  Kovner  has 
always  claimed  that  he  didn't  hold  a  lease." 

For  answer,  Feldman  touched  the  button  of  an 
electric  bell. 

"Show  in  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kovner,"  he  said  to  the 
boy  who  responded.  "We'll  let  them  speak  for 
themselves." 

This,  it  would  appear,  they  were  more  than 
willing  to  do;  for  as  soon  as  they  entered  the  room 
and  caught  sight  of  Glaubmann,  who  by  this  time 
was  fairly  cowering  in  his  chair,  they  immediately 
began  a  concerted  tirade  that  was  only  ended  when 
Goldstein  banged  vigorously  on  the  library  table, 
using  as  a  gavel  one  of  Feldman's  metal-tipped 
rulers. 

"That'll  do,  Goldstein!"  Feldman  said  hoarsely. 
"  I  think  I  can  preserve  order  in  my  own  office." 

"Why  don't  you  then ?"  Goldstein  retorted,  as  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  regarded  with  a  mali- 
cious smile  the  damage  he  had  wrought. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Glaubmann,"  Kovner  began  anew, 
"you  thought  you  got  us  helpless  there  in  your 
house;  but " 

"Shut  up!"  Feldman  roared  again,  forgetting 
his  role  of  the  polished  advocate;  and  Goldstein 
fairly  beamed  with  satisfaction. 

"Don't  bully  your  own  witness,"  he  said.  "Let 
me  do  it  for  you." 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  241 

He  turned  to  Kovner  with  a  beetling  frown. 

"Now,  Kovner,"  he  commenced,  "you  claim 
you've  got  a  verbal  lease  for  a  year  of  this  Linden 
Boulevard  house,  don't  you?" 

"I  sure  do,"  Kovner  replied,  "and  I  got  witnesses 
to  prove  it." 

"That's  all  right,"  Goldstein  rejoined;  "so  long 
as  there's  Bibles  there'll  always  be  witnesses  to 
swear  on  'em.  The  point  is:  How  do  you  claim 
the  lease  was  made?" 

"I  don't  claim  nothing,"  Kovner  replied.  "I 
got  a  year's  lease  on  that  property  because,  in  the 
presence  of  my  wife  and  his  wife,  Mr.  Goldstein, 
he  says  to  me  I  must  either  take  the  house  for  a 
year  from  last  October  to  next  October  or  I  couldn't 
take  it  at  all." 

Feldman  smiled  loftily  at  his  opponent. 

"The  art  of  cross-examination  is  a  subtle  one, 
Goldstein,"  he  said,  "and  if  you  don't  understand 
it  you're  apt  to  prove  the  other  fellow's  case. 

"Nevertheless,"  Goldstein  continued,  "I'm  going 
to  ask  him  one  more  question,  and  that  is  this: 
When  was  this  verbal  agreement  made  —  before  or 
after  you  moved  into  the  house?" 

"Before  I  moved  in,  certainly,"  Kovner  answered. 
"I  told  you  that  he  says  to  me  I  couldn't  move  in 
unless  I  would  agree  to  take  the  place  for  a  year." 

"And  when  did  you  move  in?"  Goldstein  con- 
tinued. 


242  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"On  the  first  of  October,"  Kovner  said. 

"No,  popper,"  Mrs.  Kovner  interrupted;  "we 
didn't  move  in  on  the  first.  We  moved  in  the  day 
before." 

"That's  right,"  Kovner  said  —  "we  moved  in  on 
the  thirtieth  of  September." 

"So,"  Goldstein  declared,  "you  made  a  verbal 
agreement  before  September  thirtieth  for  a  lease 
of  one  year  from  October  first?" 

Kovner  nodded  and  Goldstein  turned  to  Henry 
D.  Feldman,  whose  lofty  smile  had  completely 
disappeared. 

"Well,  Feldman,"  he  said,  "you  pulled  a  couple 
of  objections  on  me  from  'way  back  in  the  last 
century,  understand  me;  so  I  guess  it  won't  hurt 
if  I  remind  you  of  a  little  statute  passed  in  the  reign 
of  Charles  the  Second,  which  says:  'All  contracts 
which  by  their  terms  are  not  to  be  performed  within 
one  year  must  be  in  writing  and  signed  by  the  party 
to  be  charged.'  I  mean  the  Statute  of  Frauds." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean  all  right,"  Feldman 
replied;  "but  you'll  have  to  prove  that  before  a 
court  and  jury.  Just  now  we  are  confronted  with 
Kovner,  who  claims  to  have  a  year's  lease;  and  my 
client  is  relieved  from  his  purchase  in  the  circum- 
stances. No  man  is  bound  to  buy  a  lawsuit,  Gold- 
stein." 

"I  know  he  ain't,"  Goldstein  retorted;  "but 
what's  the  difference,  Feldman?  He'll  have  a  law- 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  243 

suit  on  his  hands,  anyhow,  because  if  he  don't 
take  title  now,  understand  me,  I'll  bring  an  action 
to  compel  him  to  do  so  this  very  afternoon." 

At  this  juncture  a  faint  croaking  came  from  the 
vicinity  of  Louis  Stout,  who  throughout  had  been 
as  appreciative  a  listener  as  though  he  were  occupy- 
ing an  orchestra  chair  and  had  bought  his  seat 
from  a  speculator. 

"Speak  up,  Mr.  Stout!"  Feldman  cried. 

"I  was  saying,"  Louis  replied  faintly,  "that  with 
my  own  ears  I  heard  Glaubmann  say  to  Kovner 
that  he's  got  a  verbal  lease  for  one  year." 

"And  when  was  this?"  Feldman  asked. 

"About  three  weeks  ago,"  Stout  replied. 

"Then,  in  that  case,  Mr.  Goldstein,"  Feldman 
declared,  "let  me  present  to  you  another  proposition 
of  law." 

He  paused  to  formulate  a  sufficiently  impressive 
"oifer"  as  the  lawyers  say,  and  in  the  silence  that 
followed  Elkan  shuffled  to  his  feet. 

"It  ain't  necessary,  Mr.  Feldman,"  he  said.  "I 
already  made  up  my  mind  about  it." 

"About  what?"  Louis  Stout  exclaimed. 

"About  taking  the  house,"  Elkan  replied.  "If 
you'll  let  me  have  the  figures,  Mr.  Feldman,  I'll 
draw  a  check  and  have  it  certified  and  we'll  close 
this  thing  up." 

" Aber,  Elkan,"  Louis  cried,  "first  let  me  commu- 
nicate with  FlugeL" 


244  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"That  ain't  necessary  neither,"  Elkan  retorted. 
"I'm  going  to  make  an  end  right  here  and  now; 
and  you  should  be  so  good,  Mr.  Feldman,  and  fix 
me  up  the  statement  of  what  I  owe  here.  I  want 
to  get  through." 

Polatkin  rose  shakily  to  his  feet. 

"What's  the  matter,  Elkan?"  he  said  huskily. 
"Are  you  crazy,  oder  what?" 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  Elkan  commanded, 
and  there  was  a  ring  of  authority  in  his  tone  that 
made  Polatkin  collapse  into  his  chair.  "  I  am  buying 
this  house." 

"But,  Elkan,"  Louis  Stout  implored,  "why  don't 
you  let  me  talk  to  Flugel  over  the  'phone?  Might 
he  would  got  a  suggestion  to  make  maybe." 

"That's  all  right,"  Elkan  said.  "The  only  sug- 
gestion he  makes  is  that  if  I  go  to  work  and  close 
this  contract,  y'understand,  he  would  never  buy 
another  dollar's  worth  of  goods  from  us  so  long  as 
he  lives.  So  you  shouldn't  bother  to  ring  him  up, 
Mr.  Stout." 

Louis  Stout  flushed  angrily. 

"So  far  as  that  goes,  Lubliner,"  he  says,  "I  don't 
got  to  ring  up  Mr.  Flugel  to  tell  you  the  same  thing, 
so  you  know  what  you  could  do." 

"  Sure  I  know  what  I  could  do,"  Elkan  continued. 
"I  could  either  do  business  like  a  business  man 
or  do  business  like  a  muzhik,  Mr.  Stout.  Aber 
this  ain't  Russland,  Mr.  Stout  —  this  is  Amer- 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  245 

ica;  and  if  I  got  to  run  round  wiping  people's 
shoes  to  sell  goods,  then  I  don't  want  to  do  it  at 
all." 

J.  Kamin  took  a  cigar  out  of  his  mouth  and  spat 
vigorously. 

"You're  dead  right,  Elkan,"  he  said.  "Go 
ahead  and  close  the  contract  and  I  assure  you  you 
wouldn't  regret  it." 

Elkan's  eyes  blazed  and  he  turned  on  Kamin. 

"You  assure  me!"  he  said.  "Who  in  thunder  are 
you?  Do  you  think  I'm  looking  for  your  business 
now,  Kamin?  Why,  if  you  was  worth  your  salt 
as  a  merchant,  understand  me,  instead  you  would 
be  fooling  away  your  time  trying  to  make  a  share 
of  a  commission,  which  the  most  you  would  get  out 
of  it  is  a  hundred  dollars,  y'understand,  you  would 
be  attending  to  your  business  buying  your  spring 
line.  You  are  wasting  two  whole  days  on  this  deal, 
Kamin;  and  if  two  business  days  out  of  your  spring 
buying  is  only  worth  a  hundred  dollars  to  you, 
Kamin,  go  ahead  and  get  your  goods  somewheres 
else  than  in  our  store.  I  don't  need  to  be  Dun  or 
Bradstreet  to  get  a  line  on  you,  Kamin  —  and 
don't  you  forget  it!" 

At  this  juncture  a  faint  cough  localized  Joel 
Ribnik,  who  had  remained  with  Julius  Tarnowitz 
in  the  obscurity  cast  by  several  bound  volumes 
of  digests  and  reports. 

"Seemingly,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  he  said,  "you  are  a 


246  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

millionaire  concern,  the  way  your  partner  talks! 
Might  you  don't  need  our  business,  neither,  maybe?" 

Polatkin  was  busy  checking  the  ravages  made 
upon  his  linen  by  the  perspiration  that  literally 
streamed  down  his  face  and  neck;  but  Scheikowitz, 
who  had  listened  open-mouthed  to  Elkan's  pronun- 
ciamento,  straightened  up  in  his  chair  and  his  face 
grew  set  with  determination. 

"We  ain't  millionaires,  Mr.  Ribnik,"  he  said  — 
"far  from  it;  and  we  ain't  never  going  to  be,  under- 
stand me,  if  we  got  to  buy  eighteen-thousand  dollar 
houses  for  every  bill  of  goods  we  sell  to  Schnorrers 
and  deadbeats!" 

"Scheikowitz!"  Polatkin  pleaded. 

"Never  mind,  Polatkin,"  Scheikowitz  declared. 
"The  boy  is  right,  Polatkin;  and  if  we  are  making 
our  living  in  America  we  got  to  act  like  Americans  — 
not  peasants.  So,  go  ahead,  Stout.  Telephone 
Flugel  and  tell  him  from  me  that  if  he  wants  to  take 
it  that  way  he  should  do  so;  and  you,  too,  Stout — 
and  that's  all  there  is  to  it!" 

"Then  I  apprehend,  gentlemen,  that  we  had 
better  proceed  to  close,"  Feldman  said;  and  Elkan 
nodded,  for  as  Scheikowitz  finished  speaking  a  ball 
had  risen  in  Elkan's  throat  which,  blink  as  he  might, 
he  could  not  down  for  some  minutes. 

"All  right,  Goldstein,"  Feldman  continued.  "Let's 
fix  up  the  statement  of  closing." 

"One   moment,   gentlemen,"   Max   Kovner  said. 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  247 

"Do  I  understand  that,  if  Elkan  Lubliner  buys  the 
house  to-day,  we've  got  to  move  out?' ' 

Feldman  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"I  think  Mr.  Goldstein  will  agree  with  me, 
Kovner,  when  I  say  you  haven't  a  leg  to  stand  on," 
he  declared.  "You're  completely  out  of  court  on 
your  own  testimony." 

"You  mean  we  ain't  got  a  lease  for  a  year?"  Mrs. 
Kovner  asked. 

"That's  right,"  Goldstein  replied. 

"And  I  am  working  my  fingers  to  the  bone  get- 
ting rid  of  them  verfluchte  painters  and  all!"  she 
wailed.  "What  do  you  think  I  am  anyway?" 

"Well,  if  you  don't  want  to  move  right  away," 
Elkan  began,  "when  would  it  be  convenient  for 
you  to  get  out,  Mrs.  Kovner?" 

"I  don't  want  to  get  out  at  all,"  she  whimpered. 
"Why  should  I  want  to  get  out?  The  house  is 
an  elegant  house,  which  I  just  planted  yesterday 
string  beans  and  tomatoes;  and  the  parlor  looks 
elegant  now  we  got  the  old  paper  off." 

"Supposing  we  say  the  first  of  May,"  Elkan 
suggested  —  "not  that  I  am  so  crazy  to  move  out 
to  Burgess  Park,  y'understand;  but  I  don't  see 
what  is  the  sense  buying  a  house  in  the  country  and 
then  not  living  in  it." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  broken  only  by  the  soft 
weeping  of  Mrs.  Kovner;  and  at  length  Max  Kovner 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 


248  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Nu,  Elkan,"  he  said,  "what  is  the  use  beating 
bushes  round?  Mrs.  Kovner  is  stuck  on  the  house 
and  so  am  I.  So  long  as  you  don't  want  the  house, 
and  there's  been  so  much  trouble  about  it  and  all, 
I  tell  you  what  Til  do:  Take  back  two  thousand 
dollars  a  second  mortgage  on  the  house,  payable 
in  one  year  at  six  per  cent.,  which  it  is  so  good  as 
gold,  understand  me,  and  I'll  relieve  you  of  your 
contract  and  give  you  two  hundred  dollars  to 
boot." 

A  smile  spread  slowly  over  Elkan's  face  as  he 
looked  significantly  at  Louis  Stout. 

"I  don't  want  your  two  hundred  dollars,  Max," 
he  said.  "You  can  have  the  house  and  welcome; 
and  you  should  use  the  two  hundred  to  pay  your 
painting  and  plumbing  bills." 

"That's  all  right,"  Louis  Stout  said;  "there  is 
people  which  will  see  to  it  that  he  does.  Also, 
gentlemen,  I  want  everybody  to  understand  that 
I  claim  full  commission  here  from  Glaubmann  as 
the  only  broker  in  the  transaction  I" 

"Nu,  gentlemen,"  Glaubmann  said;  "I'll  leave 
this  to  the  lawyers  if  it  ain't  so:  From  one  transac- 
tion I  can  only  be  liable  for  one  commission  —  ain't 
it?" 

Feldman  and  Goldstein  nodded  in  unison. 

"Then  all  I  could  say  is  that  yous  brokers  and 
drygoods  merchants  should  fight  it  out  between 
yourselves,"  he  declared;  "because  I'm  going  to 


ONE  OF  ESAU'S  FABLES  249 

pay  the  money  for  the  commission  into  court  — 
and  them  which  is  entitled  to  it  can  have  it." 

"But  ain't  you  going  to  protect  me,  Glaubmann? " 
Ortelsburg  demanded. 

Glaubmann  raised  his  hand  for  silence. 

"One  moment,  Ortelsburg,"  he  said.  "I  think 
it  was  you  and  Kamin  told  me  that  real  estate  is  a 
game  the  same  like  auction  pinocle?" 

Ortelsburg  nodded  sulkily. 

"Then  you  fellers  should  go  ahead  and  play  it," 
Glaubmann  concluded.  "And  might  the  best  man 
win!"* 


*In  the  face  of  numerous  decisions  to  the  contrary,  the  author  holds  for  the 
purposes  of  this  story  that  a  verbal  lease  for  one  year,  to  commence  in  the 
future,  is  void. 


CHAPTER  SIX 
A  TALE  OF  TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS 

NOT  A  DETECTIVE  STORY 

YES,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  said  Max  Merech  as  he 
sat  in  the  front  parlour  of  Elkan' s  flat  one 
April  Sunday;  "if  you  are  going  to  work 
to  buy  furniture,  understand  me,  it's  just  so  easy 
to  select  good-looking  chairs  as  bad-looking  chairs." 
"  Aber  sometimes  it's  a  whole  lot  harder  to  sit 
on  'em  comfortably,"  Elkan  retorted  sourly.  On 
the  eve  of  moving  to  a  larger  apartment  he  and 
Yetta  had  invited  Max  to  suggest  a  plan  for  furnish- 
ing and  decorating  their  new  dwelling;  and  it  seemed 
to  Elkan  that  Max  had  taken  undue  advantage 
of  the  privilege  thus  accorded  him.  Indeed,  Polat- 
kin,  Scheikowitz  &  Company's  aesthetic  designer 
held  such  pronounced  views  on  interior  decoration, 
and  had  expressed  them  so  freely  to  Elkan  and 
Yetta,  that  after  the  first  half-hour  of  his  visit  the 
esteem  which  they  had  always  felt  toward  their 
plush  furniture  and  Wilton  rugs  had  changed  — 
first  to  indifference  and  then,  in  the  case  of  Yetta, 
at  least,  to  loathing. 

250 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  251 

"I  always  told  you  that  the  couch  over  there 
was  hideous,  Elkan,"  Yetta  said. 

"Hideous  it  ain't,"  Max  interrupted;  "aber  it 
ain't  so  beautiful." 

"Well,  stick  the  couch  in  the  bedroom,  then," 
Elkan  said.  "It  makes  no  difference  to  me." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Yetta  exclaimed:  "but  what 
would  we  put  in  its  place?" 

Elkan  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"What  d'ye  ask  me  for?"  Elkan  cried.  "Like 
as  not  I'd  say  another  couch." 

"There  is  couches  and  couches,"  Max  said  with 
an  apologetic  smile,  "but  if  you  would  ask  my 
advice  I  would  say  why  not  a  couple  nice  chairs 
there  —  something  in  monhogany,  like  Shippendaler 
oder  Sheratin." 

Suddenly  he  slapped  his  thigh  in  an  access  of 
inspiration. 

"I  came  pretty  near  forgetting!"  he  cried.  "I 
got  the  very  thing  you  want  —  and  a  big  bargain 
too!  Do  you  know  Louis  Dishkes,  which  runs  the 
Villy  dee  Paris  Store  in  Amsterdam  Avenue?" 

"I  think  I  know  him,"  Elkan  said  with  ironic 
emphasis.  "He  owes  us  four  hundred  dollars  for 
two  months  already." 

"Well,  Dishkes  is  got  a  brother-in-law  by  the  name 
Ringentaub,  on  Allen  Street,  which  he  is  a  dealer 
in  antics." 

"Antics?"  Elkan  exclaimed. 


252  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Sure!"  Max  explained.  "Antics  —  old  furni- 
ture and  old  silver." 

"You  mean  a  second-hand  store?"  Elkan  sug- 
gested. 

"Not  a  second-hand  store,"  Max  declared.  "A 
second-hand  store  is  got  old  furniture  from  two 
years  old  oder  ten  years  old,  understand  me;  aber 
an  antic  store  carries  old  furniture  from  a  hundred 
years  old  already." 

"And  this  here  Ringentaub  is  got  furniture  from 
a  hundred  years  old  already?"  Elkan  cried. 

"From  older  even,"  answered  Max;  "from  two 
hundred  and  fifty  years  old  also." 

"Ichglaub's!"  Elkan  cried. 

"You  can  believe  it  oder  not,  Mr.  Lubliner," 
Max  continued;  "but  Ringentaub  got  in  his  store  a 
couple  Jacobean  chairs,  which  they  are  two  hundred 
and  fifty  years  old  already.  And  them  chairs  you 
could  buy  at  a  big  sacrifice  yet." 

Elkan  and  Yetta  exchanged  puzzled  glances,  and 
Elkan  even  tapped  his  forehead  significantly. 

"They  was  part  of  a  whole  set,"  Max  went  on, 
not  noticing  his  employer's  gesture;  "the  others 
Ringentaub  sold  to  a  collector." 

Elkan  flipped  his  right  hand. 

"A  collector  is  something  else  again,"  he  said; 
"but  me  I  ain't  no  collector,  Max,  Gott  sei  Dank! 
I  got  my  own  business,  Max,  and  I  ain't  got  to 
buy  from  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  old  furniture." 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  253 

"Why  not?"  Max  asked.  "B.  Cans  is  got  his 
own  business,  too,  Mr.  Lubliner,  and  a  good  business 
also;  and  he  buys  yet  from  Ringentaub  —  only  last 
week  already  —  an  angry  cat  cabinet  which  it  is 
three  hundred  years  old  already." 

"An  angry  cat  cabinet?"  Elkan  exclaimed. 

"That's  what  I  said,"  Max  continued;  "'angry' 
is  French  for  'Henry'  and  'cat'  is  French  for 
'fourth';  so  this  here  cabinet  was  made  three  hun- 
dred years  ago  when  Henry  the  Fourth  was  king 
of  France  —  and  B.  Cans  buys  it  last  week  already 
for  five  hundred  dollars!" 

Therewith  Max  commenced  a  half-hour  disserta- 
tion upon  antique  furniture  which  left  Yetta  and 
Elkan  more  undecided  than  ever. 

"And  you  are  telling  me  that  big  people  like  B. 
Cans  and  Andrew  Carnegie  buys  this  here  antics 
for  their  houses?"  Elkan  asked. 

"J.  P.  Morgan  also,"  Max  replied.  "And  them 
Jacobean  chairs  there  you  could  get  for  fifty  dollars 
already." 

"Well,  it  wouldn't  do  no  harm  supposing  we  would 
go  down  and  see  'em,"  Yetta  suggested. 

"Some  night  next  week,"  Elkan  added,  "oder 
the  week  after." 

"For  that  matter,  we  could  go  to-night  too,* 
Max  rejoined.  "Sunday  is  like  any  other  night 
down  on  Allen  Street,  and  you  got  to  remember 
that  Jacobean  chairs  is  something  which  you  couldn't 


254  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

get  whenever  you  want  'em.  Let  me  tell  you  just 
what  they  look  like." 

Here  he  descanted  so  successfully  on  the  beauty 
of  Jacobean  furniture  that  Yetta  added  her  persua- 
sion to  his,  and  Elkan  at  length  surrendered. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "First  we  would  have  a 
little  something  to  eat  and  then  we  would  go  down 
there." 

Hence,  a  few  minutes  after  eight  that  evening 
they  alighted  at  the  Spring  Street  subway  station; 
and  Max  Merech  piloted  Elkan  and  Yetta  beneath 
elevated  railroads  and  past  the  windows  of  brass 
shops,  with  their  gleaming  show  of  candlesticks  and 
samovars,  to  a  little  basement  store  near  the  corner 
of  Rivington  Street. 

"It  don't  look  like  much,"  Max  apologized  as  he 
descended  the  few  steps  leading  to  the  entrance; 
"aber  he's  got  an  elegant  stock  inside." 

When  he  opened  the  door  a  trigger  affixed  to  the 
door  knocked  against  a  rusty  bell,  but  no  one 
responded.  Instead,  from  behind  a  partition  in 
the  rear  came  sounds  of  an  angry  dispute;  and  as 
Elkan  closed  the  door  behind  him  one  of  the  voices 
rose  higher  than  the  rest. 

"Take  my  life  —  take  my  blood,  Mr.  Sammet!" 
it  said;  "because  I  am  making  you  the  best  propo- 
sition I  can,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

Max  was  about  to  stamp  his  foot  when  Elkan 
laid  a  restraining  hand  on  his  shoulder;  and,  in  the 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  255 

pause  that  followed,  the  heavy,  almost  hysterical 
breathing  of  the  last  speaker  could  be  heard  in  the 
front  of  the  store. 

"  I  don't  want  your  life  oder  your  blood,  Dishkes," 
came  the  answer  in  bass  tones,  which  Elkan  recog- 
nized as  the  voice  of  his  competitor,  Leon  Sammet. 
"  I  am  your  heaviest  creditor,  and  all  I  want  is  that 
you  should  protect  me." 

"I  know  you  are  my  heaviest  creditor,"  Louis 
Dishkes  replied.  "To  my  sorrow  I  know  it!  If  it 
wouldn't  be  for  your  rotten  stickers  which  I  got 
in  my  place,  might  I  would  be  doing  a  good  business 
there  to-day,  maybe  1" 

"Schmooes,  Dishkesl"  Sammet  replied.  "The 
reason  you  didn't  done  a  good  business  there  is  that 
you  ain't  no  business  man,  Dishkes  —  and  anyhow, 
Dishkes,  it  don't  do  no  good  you  should  insult  me!" 

"What  d'ye  mean  insult  you?"  Dishkes  cried 
angrily.  "I  ain't  insulting  you,  Sammet.  You  are 
insulting  me.  You  want  me  I  should  protect  you 
and  let  my  other  creditors  go  to  the  devil  —  ain't 
it?  What  d'ye  take  me  for  —  a  crook?" 

"That's  all  right,"  Sammet  declared.  " I  wouldn't 
dandy  words  with  you,  Dishkes.  For  the  last  time 
I  am  asking  you:  Will  you  take  advantage  of  the 
offer  I  am  getting  for  you  from  the  Mercantile 
Outlet  Company,  of  Nashville,  for  your  entire 
stock?  Otherwise  I  would  got  nothing  more  to  say 
to  you." 


256  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

There  was  a  sound  of  scuffling  feet  as  the  party 
in  the  rear  of  the  store  rose  from  their  chairs. 

"You  ain't  got  no  need  to  say  nothing  more  to 
me,  Mr.  Sammet,"  Dishkes  announced  firmly,  "be- 
cause I  am  through  with  you,  Mr.  Sammet.  Your 
account  ain't  due  till  to-morrow,  and  you  couldn't 
do  nothing  till  Tuesday.  Ain't  it?  So  Tuesday 
morning  early  you  should  go  ahead  and  sue  me, 
and  if  I  couldn't  raise  money  to  save  myself  I  will 
go  mechullah;  but  it'll  be  an  honest  mechullah,  and 
that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

As  Dishkes  finished  speaking  Elkan  drew  Max 
and  Yetta  into  the  shadow  cast  by  a  tall  highboy; 
and,  without  noticing  their  presence,  Leon  Sammet 
plunged  toward  the  door  and  let  himself  out  into 
the  street. 

Immediately  Elkan  tiptoed  to  the  door  and  threw 
it  wide  open,  after  which  he  shuffled  his  feet  with 
sufficient  noise  to  account  for  the  entrance  of  three 
people.  Thereat  Ringentaub  emerged  from  behind 
the  partition. 

"Hello,  Ringentaub,"  Max  cried.  " I  am  bringing 
you  here  some  customers." 

Ringentaub  bowed  and  coughed  a  warning  to 
Dishkes  and  Mrs.  Ringentaub,  who  continued  to 
talk  in  hoarse  whispers  behind  the  partition. 

"What's  the  matter,  Ringentaub?"  Max  Merech 
asked;  "couldn't  you  afford  it  here  somehow  a  little 
light?" 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  257 

Ringentaub  reached  into  the  upper  darkness  and 
turned  on  a  gas  jet  which  had  been  burning  a  blue 
point  of  flame. 

"I  keep  it  without  light  here  on  purpose,"  he  said, 
"on  account  Sundays  is  a  big  night  for  the  candle- 
stick fakers  up  the  street  and  I  don't  want  to  be 
bothered  with  their  trade.  What  could  I  show 
your  friends,  Mr.  Merech?" 

Max  winked  almost  imperceptibly  at  Elkan  and 
prepared  to  approach  the  subject  of  the  Jacobean 
chairs  by  a  judicious  detour. 

"Do  you  got  maybe  a  couple  Florentine  frames, 
Ringentaub?"  he  asked;  and  Ringentaub  shook  his 
head. 

"Florentine  frames  is  hard  to  find  nowadays, 
Mr.  Merech,"  he  said;  "and  I  guess  I  told  it  you 
Friday  that  I  ain't  got  none." 

Elkan  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled. 

"I  thought  might  you  would  of  picked  up  a  couple 
since  then,  maybe,"  Max  rejoined,  glancing  round 
him.  "You  got  a  pretty  nice  highboy  over  there, 
Ringentaub,  for  a  reproduction." 

Ringentaub  nodded  satirically. 

"That  only  goes  to  show  how  much  you  know 
about  such  things,  Mr.  Merech,"  he  retorted,  "when 
you  are  calling  reproductions  something  which  it 
is  a  gen-wine  Shippendaler,  understand  me,  in 
elegant  condition." 

It  was  now  Elkan's  turn  to  nod,  and  he  did  so 


2  58  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

with  just  the  right  degree  of  skepticism  as  at  last 
he  broached  the  object  of  his  visit. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "that  them  chairs  over 
there  is  also  gen-wine  Jacobean  chairs?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  with  you,  Mr.  Merech," 
Ringentaub  declared.  "You  could  bring  down  here 
any  of  them  good  Fourth  Avenue  or  Fifth  Avenue 
dealers,  understand  me,  or  any  conoozer  you  want 
to  name,  like  Jacob  Paul,  oder  anybody,  y'under- 
stand;  and  if  they  would  say  them  chairs  ain't 
gen-wine  Jacobean  I'll  make  'em  a  present  to  you 
free  for  nothing." 

"I  ain't  schnorring  for  no  presents,  Mr.  Ringen- 
taub," Max  declared.  "Bring  'em  out  in  the 
light  and  let's  give  a  look  at  'em." 

Ringentaub  drew  the  chairs  into  the  centre  of 
the  floor,  and  placing  them  beneath  the  gas  jet 
he  stepped  backward  and  tilted  his  head  to  one  side 
in  silent  admiration. 

"Nu,  Mr.  Merech,"  he  said  at  last,  "am  I  right 
or  am  I  wrong?  Is  the  chairs  gen-wine  o^rnot? 
I  leave  it  to  your  friends  here." 

Max  turned  to  Elkan,  who  had  been  edging  away 
toward  the  partition,  from  which  came  scraps 
of  [ conversation  between  Dishkes  and  Mrs.  Ring- 
entaub. 

"What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Lubliner?"  Max 
asked;  and  Elkan  frowned  his  annoyance  at  the 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  259 

interruption,  for  he  had  just  begun  to  catch  a  few 
words  of  the  conversation  in  the  rear  room. 

"Sure  —  sure!"  he  said  absently.  "I  leave  it  to 
you  and  Mrs.  Lubliner." 

Yetta's  face  had  fallen  as  she  viewed  the  appar- 
ently decayed  and  rickety  furniture. 

"Ain't  they  terrible  shabby-looking!"  she  mur- 
mured, and  Ringentaub  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
smiled. 

"You  would  look  shabby,  too,  lady,"  he  said, 
"if  you  would  be  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  old; 
aber  if  you  want  to  see  what  they  look  like  after 
they  are  restored,  y'understand,  I  got  back  there  one 
of  the  rest  of  the  set  which  I  already  sold  to  Mr. 
Paul;  and  I  am  fixing  it  up  for  him." 

As  he  finished  speaking  he  walked  to  the  rear  and 
dragged  forward  a  reseated  and  polished  duplicate 
of  the  two  chairs. 

"I  dassent  restore  'em  before  I  sell  'em,"  Ringen- 
taub explained;  "otherwise  no  one  believes  they 
are  gen-wine." 

"And  how  much  do  you  say  you  want  for  them 
chairs,  Ringentaub?"  Max  asked. 

"I  didn't  say  I  wanted  nothing,"  Ringentaub 
replied.  "The  fact  is,  I  don't  know  whether  I  want 
to  keep  them  chairs  oder  not.  You  see,  Mr.  Merech, 
Jacobean  chairs  is  pretty  near  so  rare  nowadays 
that  it  would  pay  me  to  wait  a  while.  In  a  couple 
of  years  them  chairs  double  in  value  already." 


260  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Max  said.  "You  could  say  the 
same  thing  about  your  whole  stock,  Ringentaub; 
and  so,  if  I  would  be  you,  Ringentaub,  I  would 
take  a  little  vacation  of  a  couple  years  or  so.  Go 
round  the  world  mit  Mrs.  Ringentaub,  understand 
me,  and  by  the  time  you  come  back  you  are  worth 
twicet  as  much  as  you  got  to-day;  but  just  to  help 
pay  your  rent  while  you  are  away,  Mr.  Ringentaub, 
I'll  make  you  an  offer  of  thirty-five  dollars  for  the 
chairs." 

Ringentaub  seized  a  chair  in  each  hand  and 
dragged  them  noisily  to  one  side. 

"As  I  was  saying,"  he  announced,  "I  ain't  got 
no  Florentine  frames,  Mr.  Merech;  so  I  am  sorry 
we  couldn't  do  no  business." 

"Well,  then,  thirty-seven-fifty,  Mr.  Ringentaub," 
Max  continued;  and  Ringentaub  made  a  flapping 
gesture  with  both  hands. 

"Say,  lookyhere,"  he  growled,  "what  is  the  use 
talking  nonsense,  Mr.  Merech?  For  ten  dollars 
apiece  you  could  get  on  Twenty-third  Street  a  couple 
chairs,  understand  me,  made  in  some  big  factory, 
y'understand  —  A-Number-One  pieces  of  furni- 
ture —  which  would  suit  you  a  whole  lot  better 
as  gen-wine  pieces.  These  here  chairs  is  for 
conoozers,  Mr.  Merech;  so,  if  you  want  any  shiny 
candlesticks  oder  Moskva  samovars  from  brass- 
spinners  on  Center  Street,  y'understand,  a  couple 
doors  uptown  you  would  find  plenty  fakers.  Aber 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  261 

here  is  all  gen-wine  stuff,  y'understand;  and  for 
gen-wine  stuff  you  got  to  pay  full  price,  understand 
me,  which  if  them  chairs  stays  in  my  store  till  they 
are  five  hundred  years  old  already  I  wouldn't  take 
a  cent  less  for  'em  as  fifty  dollars." 

Max  turned  inquiringly  to  Mrs.  Lubliner;  and, 
during  the  short  pause  that  followed,  the  agonized 
voice  of  Louis  Dishkes  came  once  more  from  the 
back  room. 

"What  could  I  do?"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Ringentaub. 
"I  want  to  be  square  mit  everybody,  and  I  must 
got  to  act  quick  on  account  that  sucker  Sammet 
will  close  me  up  sure." 

"  Ai)  tzuris!"  Mrs.  Ringentaub  moaned;  at  which 
her  husband  coughed  noisily  and  Elkan  moved 
nearer  to  the  partition. 

"Would  you  go  as  high  as  fifty  dollars,  Mrs. 
Lubliner?"  Max  asked,  and  Yetta  nodded. 

"All  right,  Mr.  Ringentaub,"  Max  concluded; 
"we'll  take  'em  at  fifty  dollars." 

"And  you  wouldn't  regret  it  neither,"  Ringentaub 
replied.  "I'll  make  you  out  a  bill  right  away." 

He  darted  into  the  rear  room  and  slammed  the 
partition  door  behind  him. 

"Koosh,  Dishkes!"  he  hissed.  "Ain't  you  got 
no  sense  at  all  —  blabbing  out  your  business  in  front 
of  all  them  strangers?" 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Elkan  rapped  on  the 
door. 


262  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Ringentaub,"  he  said,  "but 
I  ain't  no  stranger  to  Mr.  Dishkes  —  not  by  four 
hundred  dollars  already." 

He  opened  the  door  as  he  spoke,  and  Dishkes,  who 
was  sitting  at  a  table  with  his  head  bowed  on  his 
hands,  looked  up  mournfully. 

"Nu,  Mr.  Lubliner!"  he  said.  "You  are  after 
me,  too,  ain't  it?" 

Elkan  shook  his  head. 

"Not  only  I  ain't  after  you,  Dishkes,"  he  said, 
"but  I  didn't  even  know  you  was  in  trouble  until 
just  now." 

"And  you  never  would  of  known,"  Ringentaub 
added,  "if  he  ain't  been  such  a  dummer  Ochs  and 
listened  to  people's  advice.  He  got  a  good  chance 
to  sell  out,  and  he  wouldn't  took  it." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Elkan  said,  "to  an  auction  house; 
the  idee  being  to  run  away  mit  the  proceeds  and  leave 
his  creditors  in  the  lurches!" 

Dishkes  again  buried  his  head  in  his  hands,  while 
Ringentaub  blushed  guiltily. 

"That  may  be  all  right  in  the  antic  business, 
Mr.  Ringentaub,"  Elkan  went  on,  "but  in  the 
garment  business  we  ain't  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  behind  the  times  exactly.  We  got  associa- 
tions of  manufacturers  and  we  got  good  lawyers, 
too,  understand  me;  and  we  get  right  after  crooks 
like  Sammet,  just  the  same  as  some  of  us  helps  out 
retailers  that  want  to  be  decent,  like  Dishkes  here," 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  263 

Louis  Dishkes  raised  his  head  suddenly. 

"Then  you  heard  the  whole  thing?"  he  cried;  and 
Elkan  nodded. 

"I  heard  enough,  Dishkes,"  he  said;  "and  if  you 
want  my  help  you  could  come  down  to  my  place 
to-morrow  morning  at  ten  o'clock." 

At  this  juncture  the  triggered  bell  rang  loudly, 
and  raising  his  hand  for  silence  Ringentaub  returned 
to  the  store. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Paul!"  he  said. 

He  addressed  a  broad-shouldered  figure  arrayed 
in  the  height  of  Canal  Street  fashion. 

Aside  from  his  clothing,  however,  there  was  little 
to  betray  the  connoisseur  of  fine  arts  and  antiques 
in  the  person  of  Jacob  Paul,  who  possessed  the 
brisk,  businesslike  manner  and  steel-blue  eyes  of 
a  detective  sergeant. 

"Hello,  Ringentaub!"  he  said.  "You  are  doing 
a  rushing  business  here  —  ain't  it?  More  customers 
in  the  back  room  too?" 

He  glanced  sharply  at  the  open  doorway  in  the 
partition,  through  which  Elkan  and  Dishkes  could 
be  seen  engaged  in  earnest  conversation. 

"  Yow  —  customers!"  Ringentaub  .exclaimed. 
"You  know  how  it  is  in  the  antic  business,  Mr. 
Paul.  For  a  hundred  that  looks,  understand  me, 
one  buys;  and  that  one,  Mr.  Paul,  he  comes  into 
your  place  a  dozen  times  before  he  makes  up  his 
mind  yet" 


264  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Well,"  Paul  said  with  a  smile,  "I've  made  up 
my  mind  at  last,  Ringentaub,  and  I'll  take  them 
other  two  chairs  at  forty-five  dollars." 

Ringentaub  nodded  his  head  slowly. 

"I  thought  you  would,  Mr.  Paul,"  he  said;  "but 
just  the  same  you  are  a  little  late,  on  account  this 
here  gentleman  already  bought  'em  for  fifty  dol- 
lars." 

A  shade  of  disappointment  passed  over  Paul's  face 
as  he  turned  to  Max  Merech. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Mister " 

"Merech,"  Max  suggested. 

"Merech,"  Paul  continued.  "You  paid  a  high 
price  for  a  couple  of  good  pieces." 

"  I  ain't  paying  nothing,"  Max  replied.  "  I  bought 
'em  for  this  lady  here  and  her  husband." 

It  was  then  that  Jacob  Paul  for  the  first  time 
noticed  Yetta's  presence,  and  he  bowed  apologeti- 
cally. 

"Is  he  also  a  collector?"  he  asked,  and  Max 
shook  his  head. 

"He's  in  the  garment  business,"  Yetta  volun- 
teered, "for  himself." 

A  puzzled  expression  wrinkled  Paul's  flat  nose. 

"I  guess  I  ain't  caught  the  name,"  he  said. 

"Lubliner,"  Yetta  replied;  "Elkan  Lubliner,  of 
Polatkin,  Scheikowitz  &  Company." 

"You  don't  tell  me?"  Jacob  Paul  said.  "And  so 
Mr.  Lubliner  is  interested  in  antiques.  That's 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  265 

quite  a  jump,  from  cloaks  and  suits  to  antiques 
already." 

"Well,"  Merech  explained,  "Mr.  Lubliner  is 
refurnishing  his  house." 

"Maybe,"  Elkan  added  as  he  appeared  in  the 
doorway  of  the  partition,  followed  by  Dishkes  and 
Mrs.  Ringentaub.  "Buying  a  couple  pieces  of 
furniture  is  one  thing,  Merech,  and  refurnishing 
your  house  is  another." 

"You  made  a  good  start  anyhow,"  Paul  inter- 
rupted. "A  couple  chairs  like  them  gives  a  tone 
to  a  room  which  is  got  crayon  portraits  hanging  in 
it  even." 

Yetta  blushed  in  the  consciousness  of  what  she 
had  always  considered  to  be  a  fine  likeness  of  Elkan's 
grandfather  —  the  Lubliner  Rav  —  which  hung  in 
a  silver-and-plush  frame  over  the  mantelpiece  of 
the  Lubliner  front  parlour.  Elkan  was  unashamed, 
however,  and  he  glared  angrily  at  the  connoisseur, 
who  had  started  to  leave  the  store. 

"I  suppose,"  he  cried,  "it  ain't  up  to  date  that 
a  feller  should  have  hanging  in  his  flat  a  portrait 
of  his  grandfather  —  olav  hasholem!  —  which  he  was 
a  learned  man  and  a  Tzadek,  if  there  ever  was 
one." 

Paul  hesitated,  with  his  hand  on  the  doorknob. 

"I'll  tell  you,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  said  solemnly; 
"to  me  a  crayon  portrait  is  rotten,  understand  me> 
if  it  would  be  of  a  Tzadek  oder  a  murderer." 


266  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

And  with  a  final  bow  to  Mrs.  Lubliner  he  banged 
the  door  behind  him. 

"Well,  what  d'ye  think  for  a  Kosher  like  that?" 
Elkan  exclaimed. 

"The  fellow  is  disappointed  that  you  got  ahead 
of  him  buying  the  chairs,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  Ringen- 
taub  explained;  "so  he  takes  a  chance  that  you 
and  Mrs.  Lubliner  is  that  kind  of  people  which  is 
got  hanging  in  the  parlour  crayon  portraits,  under- 
stand me,  and  he  knocks  you  for  it." 

Elkan  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"What  could  you  expect  from  a  feller  which 
is  content  at  fifty  years  of  age  to  be  a  collector 
only?"  he  asked,  and  Dishkes  nodded  sympa- 
thetically. 

"I  bet  yer,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  agreed;  "and  so  I 
would  be  at  your  store  to-morrow  morning  at  ten 
o'clock  sure." 

"I  don't  doubt  your  word  for  a  minute,  Elkan," 
Marcus  Polatkin  said  the  following  morning  when 
Elkan  related  to  him  the  events  of  the  preceding 
night;  "aber  you  couldn't  blame  Sammet  none. 
Concerns  like  Sammet  Brothers,  which  they  are 
such  dirty  crooks  that  everybody  is  got  suspicions 
of  'em,  y'understand,  must  got  to  pay  their  bills 
prompt  to  the  day,  Elkan;  because  if  they  wouldn't 
be  themselves  good  collectors,  understand  me,  they 
would  bust  up  quick." 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  267 

''Sammet  Brothers  ain't  in  no  danger  of  busting 
up,"  Elkan  declared. 

"Ain't  they?"  Marcus  rejoined.  "Well,  you 
would  be  surprised,  Elkan,  if  I  would  tell  you  that 
only  yesterday  already  I  am  speaking  to  a  feller 
by  the  name  Hirsch,  which  works  for  years  by  the 
Hamsuckett  Mills  as  city  salesman,  understand  me, 
and  he  says  that  the  least  Sammet  Brothers  owes 
them  people  is  ten  thousand  dollars." 

"That  shows  what  a  big  business  they  must  do," 
Elkan  said. 

"  Yow  —  a  big  business!"  Marcus  concluded. 
"This  here  Hirsch  says  not  only  Sammet  Broth- 
ers' business  falls  off  something  terrible,  y'un- 
derstand,  but  they  are  also  getting  to  be  pretty 
slow  pay;  and  if  it  wouldn't  be  that  the  Ham- 
suckett people  is  helping  'em  along,  verstehst  du, 
they  would  of  gone  up  schon  long  since  al- 
ready." 

"And  a  good  job  too,"  Elkan  said.  "The  cloak- 
and-suit  trade  could  worry  along  without  'em, 
Mr.  Polatkin;  but  anyhow,  Mr.  Polatkin,  I  ain't 
concerned  with  Sammet  Brothers.  The  point  is 
this:  Dishkes  says  he  has  got  a  good  stand  there 
on  Amsterdam  Avenue,  and  if  he  could  only  hold 
on  a  couple  months  longer  he  wouldn't  got  no 
difficulty  in  pulling  through." 

Polatkin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"For  my  part,"  he  said,  "it  wouldn't  make  no 


268  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

difference  if  Dishkes  busts  up  now  oder  two  months 
from  now." 

"But  the  way  he  tells  me  yesterday,"  Elkan 
replied,  "not  only  he  wouldn't  got  to  bust  up  on  us 
if  he  gets  his  two  months'  extension,  but  he  says 
he  would  be  doing  a  good  business  at  that  time." 

Polatkin  nodded  skeptically. 

"Sure,  I  know,  Elkan,"  he  said.  "If  everybody 
which  is  asking  an  extension  would  do  the  business 
they  hope  to  do  before  the  extension  is  up,  Elkan," 
he  said,  "all  the  prompt-pay  fellows  must  got  to 
close  up  shop  on  account  there  wouldn't  be  enough 
business  to  go  round." 

"Well,  anyhow,"  Elkan  rejoined,  "he's  coming 
here  to  see  us  this  morning,  Mr.  Polatkin,  and  he 
could  show  you  how  he  figures  it  that  he's  got 
hopes  to  pull  through." 

Polatkin  made  a  deprecatory  gesture  with  his 
hand. 

"If  a  feller  is  going  to  bust  up  on  me,  Elkan, 
I'd  just  as  lief  he  ain't  got  no  hopes  at  all,"  he 
grumbled;  "otherwise  he  wastes  your  whole  day  on 
you  figuring  out  his  next  season's  profits  if  he  can 
only  stall  off  his  creditors.  With  such  a  hoping 
feller,  if  you  don't  want  to  be  out  time  as  well  as 
money,  understand  me,  you  should  quick  file  a 
petition  in  bankruptcy  against  him;  otherwise  he 
wouldn't  give  you  no  peace  at  all." 

Nevertheless,  when  Dishkes  arrived,  half  an  hour 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  269 

later,  Polatkin  ushered  him  into  the  firm's  office 
and  summoned  Scheikowitz  and  Elkan  to  the 
conference. 

"Well,  Dishkes,"  he  said  in  kindly  accents,  "you 
are  up  against  it." 

Dishkes  nodded.  He  was  by  no  means  of  a 
robust  physical  type,  and  his  hands  trembled  so 
nervously  as  he  fumbled  for  his  papers  in  his  breast 
pocket  that  he  dropped  its  contents  on  the  office 
floor.  Elkan  stooped  to  assist  in  retrieving  the 
scattered  papers,  and  among  the  documents  he 
gathered  together  was  a  cabinet  photograph. 

"My  wife!"  Dishkes  murmured  hoarsely.  "She 
ain't  so  strong,  and  I  am  sending  her  up  to  the 
country  a  couple  months  ago.  I've  been  meaning 
I  should  go  up  and  see  her  ever  since,  but " 

Here  he  gulped  dismally;  and  there  was  an  em- 
barrassed silence,  broken  only  by  the  faint  noise 
occasioned  by  Philip  Scheikowitz  scratching  his 
chin. 

"That's  a  Rosher  —  that  feller  Sammet,"  Polatkin 
said  at  length.  "Honestly,  the  way  some  business 
men  ain't  got  no  mercy  at  all  for  the  other  feller, 
you  would  think,  Scheikowitz,  they  was  living  back 
in  the  old  country  yet!" 

Scheikowitz  nodded  and  glanced  nervously  from 
the  photograph  to  Elkan. 

"I  think  you  was  telling  me  you  got  a  couple 
idees  about  helping  Dishkes  out,  Elkan,"  he  said. 


270  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"So,  in  the  first  place,  Dishkes,  you  should  please 
let  us  see  a  list  of  your  creditors." 

With  this  prelude  Scheikowitz  drew  forward  his 
chair  and  plunged  into  a  discussion  of  Dishkes' 
affairs  that  lasted  for  more  than  two  hours;  and  when 
Dishkes  at  length  departed  he  took  with  him  notices 
of  a  meeting  addressed  to  his  twenty  creditors, 
prepared  for  immediate  mailing  by  Polatkin,  Schei- 
kowitz &  Company's  stenographer. 

uAnd  that's  what  we  let  ourselves  in  for,"  Scheiko- 
witz declared  after  the  elevator  door  had  closed 
behind  Dishkes.  "To-morrow  morning  at  eleven 
o'clock  the  place  here  would  look  like  the  waiting 
room  of  a  depot,  and  all  our  competitors  would  be 
rubbering  at  our  stock  already." 

"Let  'em  rubber!"  Elkan  said.  "If  I  don't 
get  an  extension  for  that  feller  my  name  ain't 
Elkan  Lubliner  at  all;  because  between  now  and 
then  I  am  going  round  to  see  them  twenty  creditors, 
and  I  bet  yer  they  will  sign  an  extension  agreement, 
with  the  figures  I  am  going  to  put  up  to  them!" 

"Figures!"  Scheikowitz  jeered.  "What  good  is 
figures  to  them  fellers?  Showing  figures  to  a  bank- 
rupt's creditors  is  like  taking  to  a  restaurant  a  feller 
which  is  hungry  and  letting  him  look  at  the  knives 
and  forks  and  plates,  understand  me!" 

Elkan  nodded. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  he  said;  "but  the  figures  ain't 
all." 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  271 

Surreptitiously  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  faded 
cabinet  photograph. 

"  I  sneaked  this  away  from  Dishkes  when  he  wasn't 
noticing,"  Elkan  declared;  "and  if  this  don't  fix 
'em  nothing  will!" 

"Say,  lookyhere,  Lubliner,"  Leon  Sammet  cried 
after  Elkan  had  broached  the  reason  for  his  visit 
late  that  afternoon,  "don't  give  me  that  tale  of  woe 
again.  Every  time  we  are  asking  Dishkes  for  money 
he  pulls  this  here  sick-wife  story  on  us,  understand 
me;  and  it  don't  go  down  with  me  no  more." 

"What  d'ye  mean  don't  go  down  with  you?" 
Elkan  demanded.  "Do  you  claim  his  wife  ain't 
sick?" 

"I  don't  claim  nothing,"  Sammet  retorted.  "I 
ain't  no  doctor,  Lubliner.  I  am  in  the  cloak-and- 
suit  business,  and  I  got  to  pay  my  creditors  with 
United  States  money,  Lubliner,  if  my  wife  would 
be  dying  yet." 

"Which  you  ain't  got  no  wife,"  Elkan  added 
savagely. 

"Gott  sei  Dank!"  Sammet  rejoined.  " Aber  if  I 
did  got  one,  y'understand,  I  would  got  Verstand 
enough  to  pick  out  a  healthy  woman,  which  Dishkes 
does  everything  the  same.  He  picks  out  a  store 
there  on  an  avenue  when  it  is  a  dead  neighbourhood, 
understand  me  —  and  he  wants  us  we  should  suffer 
for  it." 


272  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"The  neighbourhood  wouldn't  be  dead  after  three 
months,"  Elkan  said.  "Round  the  corner  on  both 
sides  of  the  street  is  building  thirty-three-foot, 
seven-story  elevator  apartments  yet;  and  when 
they  are  occupied,  Dishkes  would  do  a  rushing 
business." 

"That's  all  right,"  Sammet  answered.  "I  ain't 
speculating  in  real-estate  futures,  Lubliner;  so  you 
might  just  so  well  go  ahead  and  attend  to  your 
business,  Lubliner,  because  me  I  am  going  to  do 
the  same." 

"But  lookyhere,  Sammet,"  Elkan  still  pleaded. 
"I  seen  pretty  near  every  one  of  Dishkes'  creditors 
and  they  all  agree  the  feller  should  have  a  three 
months'  extension." 

"Let  'em  agree,"  Sammet  shouted.  "They  are 
their  own  bosses  and  so  am  I,  Lubliner;  so  if  they 
want  to  give  him  an  extension  of  their  account 
I  ain't  got  nothing  to  say.  All  I  want  is  eight 
hundred  dollars  he  owes  me;  and  the  rest  of  them 
suckers  could  agree  till  they  are  black  in  the  face." 

" Aber,  anyhow,  Sammet,"  Elkan  said,  "come  to 
the  meeting  to-morrow  morning  and  we  would  see 
what  we  could  do." 

"See  what  we  could  do!"  Sammet  bellowed. 
"You  will  see  what  I  could  do,  Lubliner;  and  I  will 
come  to  the  meeting  to-morrow  and  I'll  do  it  too. 
So,  if  you  don't  mind,  Lubliner,  I  could  still  do  a 
little  work  before  we  close  up  here." 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  273 

For  a  brief  interval  Elkan  dug  his  nails  into  the 
palms  of  his  hands,  and  his  eyes  unconsciously 
sought  a  target  for  a  right  swing  on  Sammet's 
bloated  face;  but  at  length  he  nodded  and  forced 
himself  to  smile. 

"Schon  gut,  Mr.  Sammet,"  he  said;  "then  I  will 
see  you  to-morrow." 

A  moment  later  he  strode  down  lower  Fifth 
Avenue  toward  the  place  of  business  of  the  last 
creditor  on  Dislikes'  list.  This  was  none  other  than 
Elkan's  distinguished  friend,  B.  Cans,  the  manu- 
facturer of  high-grade  dresses;  and  it  required  less 
than  ten  minutes  to  procure  his  consent  to  the 
proposed  extension. 

"And  I  hope,"  Elkan  said,  "that  we  could  count 
on  you  to  be  at  the  meeting  to-morrow." 

"That's  something  I  couldn't  do,"  B.  Cans 
replied;  "but  I'll  write  you  a  letter  and  give  you 
full  authority  you  should  represent  me  there. 
Excuse  me  a  minute  and  I'll  dictate  it  to  Miss 
Scheindler."  When  he  returned,  five  minutes  later, 
he  sat  down  at  his  desk  and,  crossing  his  legs,  pre- 
pared to  beguile  the  tedium  of  waiting. 

"Well,  Elkan,"  he  said,  "what  you  been  doing 
with  yourself  lately?  Thee-aytres  and  restaurants, 
I  suppose?" 

"Thee-aytres  I  ain't  so  much  interested  in  no 
more,"  Elkan  said.  "The  fact  is,  I  am  going  in 
now  for  antics." 


274  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Antics!"  B.  Cans  exclaimed. 

"Sure,"  Elkan  replied;  and  there  was  a  certain 
pride  in  his  tones.  "Antics  is  what  I  said,  Mr. 
Gans  —  Jacobson  chairs  and  them  —  now  —  cat's 
furniture." 

"Cat's  furniture?"  Gans  repeated.  "What  d'ye 
mean  cat's  furniture?" 

"Angry  cats,"  Elkan  explained;  and  then  a  great 
light  broke  upon  B.  Gans. 

"Oh!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  mean  Henri  Quatre 
furniture?" 

"Hungry  cat  oder  angry  catt"  Elkan  said.  "All 
I  know  is  we  are  refurnishing  our  flat,  Mr.  Gans, 
and  we  are  taking  an  advice  from  Max  Merech, 
our  designer.  It's  a  funny  thing  about  that  feller, 
Mr.  Gans  —  with  garments  he  is  right  up  to  the 
minute,  aber  mit  furniture  nothing  suits  him  unless 
it  would  be  anyhow  a  hundred  years  old." 

"So  you  are  buying  some  antique  furniture  for 
your  flat?"  B.  Gans  commented,  and  Elkan  nodded. 

"We  made  a  start  anyhow,"  he  said.  "We 
bought  a  couple  Jacobson  chairs  —  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  old  already." 

"Good!"  B.  Gans  exclaimed.  "I  want  to  tell 
you,  Elkan,  you  couldn't  go  far  wrong  if  you  would 
buy  any  piece  of  furniture  over  a  hundred  years  old. 
They  didn't  know  how  to  make  things  ugly  in  them 
days  —  and  Jacobean  chairs  especially.  I  am  fur- 
nishing my  whole  dining  room  in  that  period  and 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  275 

my  library  in  Old  French.  It  costs  money,  Elkan, 
but  it's  worth  it." 

Elkan  nodded  and  steered  the  conversation  into 
safer  channels;  so  that  by  the  time  Miss  Scheindler 
had  brought  in  the  letter  they  were  discussing 
familiar  business  topics. 

"Also,"  Gans  said  as  he  appended  his  neat  signa- 
ture to  the  letter,  "I  wish  you  and  Dishkes  luck, 
Elkan;  and  keep  up  the  good  work  about  the  antique 
furniture.  Even  when  you  would  get  stuck  with 
a  reproduction  instead  of  a  genuine  piece  once  in 
a  while,  if  it  looks  just  as  good  as  the  original  and 
no  one  tells  you  differently,  understand  me,  you 
feel  just  as  happy." 

Thus  encouraged,  Elkan  went  home  that  evening 
full  of  a  determination  to  acquire  all  the  antique 
furniture  his  apartment  would  hold;  and  he  and 
Yetta  sat  up  until  past  midnight  conning  the  pages 
of  a  heavy  volume  on  the  subject,  which  Yetta  had 
procured  from  the  neighbouring  public  library. 
Accordingly  Elkan  rose  late  the  following  morning, 
and  it  was  almost  nine  o'clock  before  he  reached 
his  office  and  observed  on  the  very  top  of  his  morning 
mail  a  slip  of  paper  containing  a  message  in  the 
handwriting  of  Sam,  the  office  boy. 

"A  man  called  about  Jacobowitz,"  it  read,  and 
Elkan  immediately  rang  his  deskbell.  ' 

"What  Jacobowitz  is  this?"  he  demanded  as 
Sam  entered,  and  the  office  boy  shrugged. 


276  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"I  should  know!"  he  said. 

"What  d'ye  mean  you  should  know?"  Elkan  cried. 
"Ain't  I  always  told  it  you  you  should  write  down 
always  the  name  when  people  call?" 

"Ain't  Jacobowitz  a  name?"  Sam  replied.  "Fur- 
thermore, you  couldn't  expect  me  I  should  get  the 
family  history  from  everybody  which  is  coming  in 
the  place,  Mr.  Lubliner  —  especially  when  the  feller 
says  he  would  come  back." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  he  is  coming  back?" 
Elkan  asked,  and  again  Sam  shrugged. 

"When  the  feller  is  coming  back,  Mr.  Lubliner," 
he  said,  "it  don't  make  no  difference  if  I  tell  you 
oder  not.  He  would  come  back  anyhow." 

Having  thus  disposed  of  the  matter  to  his  entire 
satisfaction,  Sam  withdrew  and  banged  the  door 
triumphantly  behind  him,  while  Elkan  fell  to  exam- 
ining his  mail.  He  had  hardly  cut  the  first  envelope, 
however,  when  his  door  opened  to  admit  Dishkes. 

"Nu,  Dishkes!"  Elkan  said.  "You  are  pretty 
early,  ain't  it?" 

Dishkes  nodded. 

"I'm  a  Schlemiel,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  said,  "and 
that's  all  there  is  to  it.  Yesterday  I  went  to  work 
and  lost  my  wife's  picture." 

Elkan  slapped  his  thigh  with  his  hand. 

"Well,  ain't  I  a  peach?"  he  said.  "I  am  getting 
so  mixed  up  with  these  here  antics  I  completely 
forgot  to  tell  Yetta  anything  about  it.  I  didn't 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  277 

even  show  it  to  her,  Dishkes;  so  you  must  leave 
me  have  it  for  a  day  longer,  Dishkes." 

As  he  spoke  he  drew  the  cabinet  photograph 
from  his  breast  pocket  and  handed  it  to  Dishkes, 
who  gazed  earnestly  at  it  for  a  minute.  Then, 
resting  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  he  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands  and  burst  into  a  fit  of  hysterical  sobbing, 
whereat  Elkan  jumped  from  his  seat  and  passed 
hurriedly  out  of  the  room.  As  he  walked  toward 
the  showroom  the  strains  of  a  popular  song  came 
from  behind  a  rack. 

"Sam,"  he  bellowed,  "who  asks  you  you  should 
whistle  round  here?" 

The  whistling  ceased  and  Sam  emerged  from  his 
hiding-place  with  a  feather  brush. 

"I  could  whistle  without  being  asked,"  Sam 
replied;  "and  furthermore,  Mr.  Lubliner,  when  I 
am  dusting  the  samples  I  must  got  to  whistle;  other- 
wise the  dust  gets  in  my  lungs,  which  I  value  my 
lungs  the  same  like  you  do,  Mr.  Lubliner,  even  if 
I  would  be  here  only  a  boy  working  on  stock!" 

With  this  decisive  rejoinder  he  resumed  dusting 
the  samples,  while  Elkan  returned  to  his  office, 
where  he  found  that  Dishkes  had  regained  his 
composure. 

Despite  the  fact  that  all  of  Dishkes'  creditors 
save  one  had  signed  an  extension  agreement,  the 
meeting  in  Polatkin,  Scheikowitz  &  Company's 


278  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

showroom  was  well  attended;  and  when  Leon 
Sammet  came  in,  at  quarter-past  eleven,  the  assem- 
blage had  already  elected  Charles  Finkman,  of 
Maisener  &  Finkman,  as  chairman.  He  had  just 
taken  his  seat  in  Philip  Scheikowitz's  new  revolving 
chair  and  was  in  the  act  of  noisily  clearing  his 
throat  in  lieu  of  pounding  the  table  with  a  gavel. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "first,  I  want  to  thank 
you  for  the  signal  honour  you  are  doing  me  in 
appointing  me  your  chairman.  For  sixteen  years 
now  my  labours  in  the  Independent  Order  Mattai 
Aaron  ain't  unknown  to  most  of  you  here.  Ten 
years  ago,  at  the  national  convention  held  in  Sarah- 
cuse,  gentlemen,  I  was  unanimously  elected  by  the 
delegates  from  sixty  lodges  to  be  your  National 
Grand  Master;  and " 

At  this  juncture  Leon  Sammet  rose  ponderously 
to  his  feet. 

"Say,  Finkman!"  retorted  Sammet.  "What  has 
all  this  Stuss  about  the  I.  O.  M.  A.  got  to  do  mit 
Dishkes  here?" 

Again  Finkman  cleared  his  throat,  and  this  time 
he  produced  a  note  of  challenge  that  caused  the 
members  of  the  I.  O.  M.  A.  there  present  to  lean 
forward  in  their  seats.  They  expected  a  crushing 
rejoinder  and  they  were  not  disappointed. 

"What  is  the  motto  of  the  I.  O.  M.  A.,  Sam- 
met?"  Finkman  thundered.  *" Justice,  Fraternity 
and  Charity!'  And  I  say  to  you  now  that,  as 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  279 

chairman  of  this  meeting,  as  well  as  Past  National 
Grand  Master  of  that  noble  order  to  which  you  and 
I  both  belong,  verstehst  du,  I  will  see  that  justice  be 
done,  fraternity  be  encouraged  and  charity  dispensed 
on  each  and  every  occasion. 

"Now,  my  brothers,  here  is  a  fellow  member  of 
our  organization  in  distress,  y'understand;  and  I 
ask  you  one  and  all  this  question"  —  he  raised 
his  voice  to  a  pitch  that  made  the  filaments  tremble 
in  the  electric-light  bulbs  —  "Who,"  he  roared, 
"who  will  come  to  his  assistance?" 

He  paused  dramatically  just  as  Sam,  the  office 
boy,  stuck  his  head  in  the  showroom  doorway  and 
rent  the  silence  with  his  high,  piping  voice 

"Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  said,  "the  man  is  here  about 
Jacobowitz." 

Elkan  flapped  his  hand  wildly,  but  it  was  too 
late  to  prevent  the  entrance  of  no  less  a  person 
than  Jacob  Paul  —  the  connoisseur  of  antiques 
and  fine  arts. 

"Hello,  Finkman!"  he  said;  "what's  the  trouble 
here?" 

Elkan  started  from  his  seat  to  interrupt  his 
visitor,  but  there  was  something  in  Finkman's 
manner  that  made  him  sit  down  again. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Paul?"  Finkman 
exclaimed;  and  the  clarion  note  had  deserted  his 
voice,  leaving  only  a  slight  hoarseness  to  mark 
its  passing.  "What  brings  you  here?" 


28o  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"I  might  ask  the  same  of  you,  Finkman,"  Jacob 
Paul  replied;  and  as  his  keen  eyes  scanned  the 
assembled  company  they  rested  for  a  minute  on 
Leon  Sammet,  who  forthwith  began  to  perspire. 

"The  fact  is,"  Finkman  began,  "this  here  is  a 
meeting  of  creditors  of  Louis  Dishkes,  of  the  Villy 
dee  Paris  Store  on  Amsterdam  Avenue." 

Paul  turned  to  Louis  Dishkes,  proprietor  of  the 
Ville  de  Paris  Store,  who  sat  at  the  side  of  the 
room  behind  Scheikowitz's  desk  in  an  improvised 
prisoner's  dock. 

"What's  the  matter,  Dishkes?"  Paul  asked. 
"Couldn't  you  make  it  go  up  there?" 

Dishkes  shrugged  hopelessly. 

"Next  month,  when  them  houses  round  the 
corner  is  rented,"  he  said,  "I  could  do  a  good  busi- 
ness there." 

"You  ought  to,"  Paul  agreed.  "You  ain't  got 
no  competitors,  so  far  as  I  could  see." 

"That's  what  we  all  think  I"  Elkan  broke  in  — 
"that  is  to  say,  all  of  us  except  Mr.  Sammet;  and 
he  ain't  willing  to  wait  for  his  money." 

Leon  Sammet  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair  as 
Jacob  Paul  faced  about  in  his  direction. 

"Why  ain't  you  willing  to  wait,  Sammet?"  he 
asked;  and  Leon  mopped  his  face  with  his  handker- 
chief. 

"Well,  it's  like  this,  Mr.  Paul "  he  began, 

but  the  connoisseur  of  antiques  raised  his  hand. 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  281 

"One  moment,  Sammet,"  he  said.  "You  know 
as  well  as  anybody  else,  and  better  even,  that  a 
millionaire  concern  like  the  Hamsuckett  Mills  must 
got  to  wait  once  in  a  while."  He  paused  signifi- 
cantly. "If  we  didn't"  he  continued,  "there's 
plenty  of  solvent  concerns  would  be  forced  to  the 
wall  —  ain't  it?  Furthermore,  if  the  Hamsuckett 
Mills  did  business  the  way  you  want  to,  Sammet, 
I  wouldn't  keep  my  job  as  credit  man  and  treasurer 
very  long." 

Sammet  nodded  weakly  and  plied  his  handker- 
chief with  more  vigour,  while  Elkan  sat  and  stared 
at  his  acquaintance  of  Sunday  night  in  unfeigned 
astonishment. 

"Then  what  is  the  use  of  talking,  Sammet?" 
Paul  said.  "  So  long  as  you  are  the  only  one  standing 
out,  why  don't  you  make  an  end  of  it?  How  long 
an  extension  does  Dishkes  want?" 

"Two  months,"  Finkman  answered. 

"And  where  is  the  agreement  you  fellows  all 
signed?"  Paul  continued. 

Elkan  took  a  paper  from  the  desk  in  front  of 
Dishkes  and  passed  it  to  Paul,  who  drew  from  his 
waistcoat  pocket  an  opulent  gold-mounted  fountain 
pen.  Then  he  walked  over  to  Leon  Sammet  and 
handed  him  the  pen  and  the  agreement. 

"Schreib,  Sammet,"  he  said,  "and  don't  make  no 
more  fuss  about  it." 

A  moment  later  Sammet  appended  a  shaky  sig- 


282  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

nature  to  the  agreement  and  returned  it,  with  the 
pen,  to  Paul. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  Jacob  Paul  sat  in 
Elkan's  office  and  smoked  one  of  Polatkin,  Scheiko- 
witz  &  Company's  best  cigars. 

"Now  I  put  it  up  to  you,  Lubliner,"  he  said: 
"them  Jacobean  chairs  are  pretty  high  at  fifty 
dollars,  but  I  want  'em,  and  I'm  willing  to  give 
you  sixty  for  'em." 

Elkan  smiled  and  made  a  wide  gesture  with  both 
hands. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Paul,"  he  said,  "after  what  you 
done  to-day  for  Dishkes  I'll  make  you  a  present 
of  'em  —  free  for  nothing." 

"No,  you  won't  do  no  such  thing,"  Paul  declared; 
"because  I'm  going  to  sell  'em  again  and  at  a  profit, 
as  I  may  as  well  tell  you." 

"My  worries  what  you  are  going  to  do  with  'em!" 
Elkan  declared.  "But  one  thing  I  ain't  going  to 
do,  Mr.  Paul  —  I  ain't  going  to  make  no  profit 
on  you;  so  go  ahead  and  take  the  chairs  at  what 
I  paid  for  'em  —  and  that's  the  best  I  could  do 
for  you." 

It  required  no  further  persuasion  for  Jacob  Paul 
to  draw  a  fifty-dollar  check  to  Elkan's  order; 
and  as  he  rose  to  leave  Elkan  pressed  his  hand 
warmly. 

"Come  up  and  see  me,  Mr.  Paul,  when  we  get 
through  refurnishing,"  he  said.  "I  promise  you 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  283 

you  would  see  a  flat  furnished  to  your  taste  —  no 
crayon  portraits  nor  nothing." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Elkan's  office 
door  opened  to  admit  Sam,  the  office  boy. 

"Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  said,  "another  feller  is  here 
about  this  here  —  now  —  Jacobowitz." 

Elkan  glanced  through  the  half-open  door  and 
recognized  the  figure  of  Ringentaub,  the  antiquarian. 

"Tell  him  to  come  in,"  he  said;  and  a  moment 
later  Ringentaub  was  wringing  Elkan's  hand  and 
babbling  his  gratitude  for  his  brother-in-law's 
deliverance  from  bankruptcy. 

"God  will  bless  you  for  it,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  he 
said;  "and  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  when  I  think 
of  it.  I  am  a  dawg,  Mr.  Lubliner  —  and  that's 
all  there  is  to  it." 

Here  he  drew  a  greasy  wallet  from  his  breast- 
pocket and  extracted  three  ten-dollar  bills. 

"Take  'em,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  he  said,  "and  forgive 


me." 


He  pressed  the  bills  into  Elkan's  hand. 

"What's  this?"  Elkan  demanded. 

"That's  the  change  from  your  fifty  dollars," 
Ringentaub  replied;  "because,  so  help  me,  Mr. 
Lubliner,  there  is  first-class  material  in  them  chairs 
and  the  feller  that  makes  'em  for  me  is  a  highgrade 
cabinetmaker.  Then  you  got  to  reckon  it  stands 
me  in  a  couple  of  dollars  also  to  get  'em  fixed  up 


284  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

antique,  /'understand;  so,  if  you  get  them  chairs 
for  twenty  dollars  you  are  buying  a  bargain,  Mr. 
Lubliner." 

"Why,  what  d'ye  mean?"  Elkan  cried.  "Ain't 
them  chairs  gen-wine  Jacobean  chairs?" 

"Not  by  a  whole  lot  they  ain't,"  Ringentaub 
declared  fervently. 

"But  Mr.  Paul  thinks  they  are!"  Elkan  exclaimed. 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Ringentaub  answered;  "and 
that  shows  what  a  lot  a  collector  knows  about  $uch 
things.  Paul  is  a  credit  man  for  the  Hamsuckett 
Mills,  Mr.  Lubliner;  but  he  collects  old  furniture 
on  the  side." 

For  a  moment  Elkan  gazed  open-mouthed  at  the 
antiquarian  and  a  great  light  began  to  break  in  on 
him. 

"So-o-o!"  he  cried.  "That's  what  you  mean  by 
a  collector  1" 

Ringentaub  nodded. 

"And  furthermore,  Mr.  Lubliner,  when  collectors 
knows  more  about  antiques  as  dealers  does,  Mr. 
Lubliner,"  he  said  with  his  hand  on  the  doorknob, 
"I'll  go  into  the  woollen  piece-goods  business  too  — 
which  you  could  take  it  from  me,  Mr.  Lubliner, 
it  wouldn't  be  soon,  by  a  hundred  years  even." 

When  Elkan  emerged  from  the  One-Hundred- 
and-Sixteenth  Street  station  of  the  subway  that 
evening  a  familiar  voice  hailed  him  from  the  rear. 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  285 

"Nu,  Elkan!"  cried  B.  Cans,  for  it  was  none 
other  than  he.  "You  made  out  fine  at  the  meeting 
this  morning  —  ain't  it?" 

"Who  told  you?"  Elkan  asked  as  he  linked  arms 
with  the  highgrade  manufacturer. 

"Never  mind  who  told  me,"  B.  Cans  said  jok- 
ingly; "but  all  I  could  say  is  you  made  a  tremen- 
dous hit  with  Jacob  Paul,  Elkan  —  and  if  that  ain't 
no  compliment,  understand  me,  I  don't  know 
what  is.  Why,  there  ain't  a  better  judge  of 
men  oder  antique  furniture  in  this  here  city  than 
Paul,  Elkan.  He's  an  A-Number-One  credit 
man,  too,  and  I  bet  yer  he  gets  a  big  salary 
from  them  Hamsuckett  Mills  people,  which  the 
least  his  income  could  be  — •  considering  what 
he  picks  up  selling  antiques  —  is  fifteen  thousand 
a  year." 

"Does  Paul  sell  all  the  antiques  he  collects?" 
Elkan  asked. 

"Does  he?"  B.  Cans  rejoined.  "Well,  I  should 
say  he  does!  Myself  I  bought  from  him  in  the 
past  two  weeks  half  a  dozen  chairs,  understand 
me  —  four  last  week  and  two  to-day  —  which  I  am 
paying  him  five  hundred  dollars  for  the  lot.  They're 
worth  it,  too,  Elkan.  I  never  seen  finer  examples 
of  the  period." 

"But  are  you  sure  they're  gen-wine?"  Elkan  asked 
as  they  reached  the  entrance  to  his  apartment 
house. 


286  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Paul  says  they  are,"  B.  Gans  answered,  slapping 
Elkan's  shoulder  in  farewell;  "and  if  he's  mistaken, 
Elkan,  then  I'm  content  that  I  should  be." 

Two  hours  later,  however,  after  Elkan  had 
recounted  to  Yetta  all  the  incidents  of  Dislikes' 
meeting  and  the  resulting  sale  of  the  chairs,  his 
conscience  smote  him. 

"What  d'ye  think,  Yetta?"  he  asked.  "Should 
I  tell  Paul  and  Gans  the  chairs  ain't  gen-wine, 
oder  not?" 

For  more  than  ten  minutes  Yetta  wrinkled  her 
forehead  over  this  knotty  ethical  point;  then  she 
delivered  her  opinion. 

"Mr.  Gans  tells  you  he  is  just  as  happy  if  they 
ain't  gen-wine  —  ain't  it?"  she  said. 

Elkan  nodded. 

"And  Mr.  Paul  acted  honest,  because  he  didn't 
know  they  wasn't  gen- wine  neither,  ain't  it?"  she 
continued. 

Again  Elkan  nodded. 

"Then,"  Yetta  declared,  "if  you  are  taking  it  so 
particular  as  all  that,  Elkan,  there's  only  one  thing 
for  you  to  do  —  give  me  the  thirty  dollars!" 

"Is  that  so!"  Elkan  exclaimed  ironically.  "And 
what  will  you  do  with  the  money?" 

"The  only  thing  I  can  do  with  it,  Schlemiel," 
she  said.  "Ten  dollars  I  will  give  Louis  Dishkes 
he  should  take  a  trip  up  to  the  country  over  Sun- 
day and  visit  his  wife." 


TWO  JACOBEAN  CHAIRS  287 

"And  what  will  we  do  with  the  other  twenty?" 
Elkan  asked. 

"We'll  send  a  present  with  him  to  Mrs.  Dishkes," 
Yetta  concluded  with  a  smile,  "and  it  wouldn't 
be  no  antics  neither!" 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 
SWEET  AND  SOUR 

ARE    THE    USES    OF    COMPETITIVE    SALESMANSHIP 

A  BER  me  and  Yetta  is  got  it  all  fixed  up 
^Al  we  would  go  to  Mrs.  Kotlin's  already," 
Elkan  Lubliner  protested  as  he  mopped  his 
forehead  one  hot  Tuesday  morning  in  July.  "The 
board  there  is  something  elegant,  Mr.  Scheikowitz. 
Everybody  says  so." 

"Yowl  everybody!"  Philip  Scheikowitz  retorted. 
"Who  is  everybody,  Elkan?  A  couple  drummers 
like  Marks  Pasinsky,  one  or  two  real  estaters,  under- 
stand me,  and  the  rest  of  'em  is  wives  from  J  to  L 
retailers,  third  credit,  which  every  time  their  hus- 
bands comes  down  to  spend  Sunday  with  'em, 
y'understand,  he  must  pretty  near  got  to  pawn 
the  shirt  from  his  back  for  car  fare  already." 

"Scheikowitz  is  right,  Elkan,"  Marcus  Polatkin 
joined  in.  "A  feller  shouldn't  make  a  god  from  his 
stomach,  Elkan,  especially  when  money  don't  figure  at 
all,  so  if  you  would  be  going  down  to  Egremont  Beach, 
understand  me,  there's  only  one  place  you  should 
stay,  y'understand,  and  that's  the  New  Salisbury." 

288 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  289 

"Which  if  you  wouldn't  take  our  word  for  it, 
Elkan,"  Scheikowitz  added,  "just  give  a  look  here." 

He  drew  from  his  coat  pocket  the  summer  resort 
section  of  the  previous  day's  paper  and  thrust  it 
toward  his  junior  partner,  indicating  as  he  did  so 
a  half  column  headed: 

MIDSEASON   GAIETY  AT 
EGREMONT   BEACH 

which  reads  as  follows: 

The  season  is  in  full  swing  here. 

On  Saturday  night  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bernard  Gans  gave  a  Chi- 
nese Lantern  Dinner  in  the  Hanging  Gardens  at  which  were 
present  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sam  Feder,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Max  Koblin, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  D.  Feldman,  Mr.  Jacob  Scharley  and  Miss 
Hortense  Feldman. 

Among  those  who  registered  Friday  at  the  New  Salisbury 
were  Mr.  Jacob  Scharley  of  San  Francisco,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sol 
Klinger,  Mr.  Leon  Sammet  and  his  mother,  Mrs.  Leah  Sammet. 

"I  thought  that  Leon's  brother  Barney  was 
staying  down  at  Egremont,"  Polatkin  said  after  he 
and  Elkan  had  read  the  item. 

"Barney  is  at  Mrs.  Kotlin's,"  Scheikowitz  ex- 
plained, "  because  mit  Leon  Sammet,  Polatkin, 
nothing  is  too  rotten  for  Barney  to  stay  at,  and 
besides  he  thinks  Barney  would  get  a  little  small 
business  there,  which  the  way  Sammet  Brothers 
figures,  understand  me,  if  they  could  stick  a  feller 
with  three  bills  of  goods  for  a  couple  hundred  dollars 
apiece,  y'understand,  so  long  as  he  pays  up  on  the 


29o  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

first  two,  he  couldn't  eat  up  their  profits  if  he  would 
bust  up  on  'em  mit  the  third." 

"Sure  I  know,"  Elkan  said,  "aber  I  ain't  going 
down  to  Egremont  for  business,  Mr.  Scheikowitz, 
I'm  going  because  it  ain't  so  warm  down  there." 

"Schmooes,  Elkan  I"  Scheikowitz  retorted.  "It 
wouldn't  make  it  not  one  degrees  warmer  in  Egre- 
mont supposing  you  could  get  a  couple  new  accounts 
down  there." 

"B.  Gans  don't  take  it  so  particular  about  the 
weather,"  Polatkin  commented.  "I  bet  yer  he 
would  a  whole  lot  sooner  take  off  his  coat  and 
shirt  and  spiel  a  little  auction  pinocle  mit  Sol 
Klinger  and  Leon  Sammet  and  all  them  fellers  as 
be  giving  dinners  already  in  a  tuxedo  suit  to  Sam 
Feder.  I  bet  yer  he  gets  a  fine  accommodation 
from  the  Kosciusko  Bank  out  of  that  dinner  yet." 

"The  other  people  also  he  ain't  schencking  no 
dinners  to  'em  for  nothing  neither,"  Scheikowitz 
declared.  "Every  one  of  'em  means  something  to 
B.  Gans,  I  bet  yer." 

Elkan  nodded. 

"Particularly  Scharley,"  he  said. 

"What  d'ye  mean,  particularly  Scharley?"  Polat- 
kin and  Scheikowitz  inquired  with  one  voice. 

"Why,  ain't  you  heard  about  Scharley?"  Elkan 
asked.  "It's  right  there  in  the  Daily  Cloak  and 
Suit  Journal.'9 

He  indicated  the  front  sheet  of  that  newsy  trade 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  291 

paper,  where  under  the  heading  of  "Incorporations" 
appeared  the  following  item: 

The  Scharley,  Oderburg  Drygoods  Company,  San  Francisco, 
Cal.,  has  filed  articles  of  incorporation,  giving  its  capital  stock 
as  $$00,000,  and  expects  to  open  its  new  store  in  September  next. 

"And  you  are  talking  about  staying  by  Mrs.  Kot- 
lin's ! "  Scheikowitz  exclaimed  in  injured  tones.  "  You 
should  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Elkan." 

Elkan  received  his  senior  partner's  upbraiding 
with  a  patient  smile. 

"What  show  do  we  stand  against  a  concern  like 
B.  Cans?"  he  asked. 

"B.  Cans  sells  him  only  highgrade  goods,  Elkan," 
Scheikowitz  declared.  "I  bet  yer  the  least  the  feller 
buys  is  for  twenty  thousand  dollars  garments  here, 
and  a  good  half  would  be  popular  price  lines,  which 
if  we  would  get  busy,  we  stand  an  elegant  show 
there,  Elkan." 

"You  should  ought  to  go  down  there  to-morrow 
yet,"  Polatkin  cried,  "because  the  first  thing  you 
know  Leon  Sammet  would  entertain  him  mit  oiter- 
mobiles  yet,  and  Sol  Klinger  gets  also  busy,  under- 
stand me,  and  the  consequences  is  we  wouldn't 
be  in  it  at  all." 

"Next  Saturday  is  the  earliest  Yetta  could  get 
ready,"  Elkan  replied  positively,  and  Polatkin  strode 
up  and  down  the  floor  in  an  access  of  despair. 

"All  right,  Elkan,"  he  said,  "if  you  want  to  let 


292  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

such  an  opportunity  slip  down  your  fingers,  y 'under- 
stand, all  right.  Aber  if  I  would  be  you,  Elkan, 
I  would  go  down  there  to-night  yet." 

Elkan  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  couldn't  get  Yetta  she  should  close  up  the  flat 
under  the  very  least  two  days,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  he 
said.  "She  must  got  to  fix  everything  just  right, 
mil  moth-camphor  and  Gott  weisst  was  nach,  other- 
wise she  wouldn't  go  at  all.  The  rugs  alone  takes  a 
whole  day  to  fix." 

"Do  as  you  like,  Elkan,"  Polatkin  declared, 
"aber  you  mark  my  words,  if  Leon  Sammet  ain't 
shoving  heaven  and  earth  right  now,  y'understand,  I 
don't  know  nothing  about  the  garment  business  at  all." 

In  fulfilment  of  this  prophecy,  when  Elkan  entered 
his  office  the  following  morning  Polatkin  waved 
in  his  face  a  copy  of  the  morning  paper. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what  did  I  told  you,  Elkan?" 

Scheikowitz  nodded  slowly. 

"My  partner  is  right,  Elkan,"  he  added,  "so 
stubborn  you  are." 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  Elkan  asked,  and  for 
answer  Polatkin  handed  him  the  paper  with  his 
thumb  pressed  against  a  paragraph  as  follows: 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sam  Feder,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Max  Koblin,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Henry  D.  Feldman,  Miss  Hortense  Feldman,  and  Mr. 
Jacob  Scharley  were  guests  of  Mr.  Leon  Sammet  at  a  Chinese 
Lantern  Dinner  this  evening  given  in  the  Hanging  Gardens  of 
the  New  Salisbury. 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  293 

"  I  thought  it  would  be  at  the  least  an  oitermobile 
ride,"  Polatkin  said  in  melancholy  tones,  "but  with 
that  sucker  all  he  could  do  is  stealing  a  competitor's 
idees.  B.  Gans  gives  Scharley  a  dinner  and  Leon 
Sammet  is  got  to  do  it,  too,  mit  the  same  guests  and 
everything." 

"Even  to  Feldman's  sister  already,"  Scheikowitz 
added,  "which  it  must  be  that  Feldman  is  trying  to 
marry  her  off  to  Scharley  even  if  he  would  be  a 
widower  mit  two  sons  in  college.  She's  a  highly 
educated  young  lady,  too." 

"Young  she  ain't  no  longer,"  Polatkin  interrupted, 
"and  if  a  girl  couldn't  cook  even  a  pertater,  under- 
stand me,  it  don't  make  no  difference  if  she  couldn't 
cook  it  in  six  languages,  y'understand,  Feldman 
would  got  a  hard  job  marrying  her  off  anyhow" 

Scheikowitz  made  an  impatient  gesture  with  both 
hands,  suggestive  of  a  dog  swimming. 

"That's  neither  here  or  there,  Polatkin,"  he  said. 
"The  point  is  Elkan  should  go  right  uptown  and 
geschwind  pack  his  grip  and  be  down  at  the  Salisbury 
this  afternoon  yet,  if  Yetta  would  be  ready  oder 
not.  We  couldn't  afford  to  let  the  ground  grow 
under  our  feet  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

Thus,  shortly  after  six  o'clock  that  evening,  Elkan 
and  Yetta  alighted  from  the  5 : 10  special  from 
Flatbush  Avenue  and  picked  their  way  through  a 
marital  throng  that  kissed  and  embraced  with  as 
much  ardour  as  though  the  reunion  had  concluded 


294  ELKAN  LULBINER 

a  parting  of  ten  years  instead  of  ten  hours.  At 
length  the  happy  couples  dragged  themselves  apart 
and  crowded  into  the  automobile  'bus  of  the  New 
Salisbury,  sweeping  Elkan  and  Yetta  before  them, 
so  that  when  the  'bus  arrived  at  the  hotel  Elkan 
and  Yetta  were  the  last  to  descend. 

A  burly  yellow-faced  porter  seized  the  baggage 
with  the  contemptuous  manner  that  Ham  nowadays 
evinces  toward  Shem,  and  Elkan  and  Yetta  followed 
him  through  the  luxurious  social  hall  to  the  desk. 
There  the  room  clerk  immediately  shot  out  a  three- 
carat  diamond  ring,  and  when  Elkan's  eyes  became 
accustomed  to  the  glare  he  saw  that  beneath  it  was 
a  fat  white  hand  extended  in  cordial  greeting. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Williams,"  Elkan 
cried,  as  he  shook  hands  fervently.  "Ain't  you  in 
the  Pitt  House,  Sarahcuse,  no  more?" 

"I'm  taking  a  short  vacation  in  a  sensible  manner, 
Mr.  Lubliner,"  Mr.  Williams  replied  in  the  rounded 
tones  that  only  truly  great  actors,  clergymen,  and 
room  clerks  possess.  "Which  means  that  I  am 
interested  in  a  real-estate  development  near  here, 
and  I'm  combining  business  with  pleasure  for  a 
couple  of  months. 

Elkan  nodded  admiringly. 

"You  got  the  right  idee,  Mr.  Williams,"  he  said. 
"This  is  my  wife,  Mr.  Williams." 

The  room  clerk  acknowledged  the  introduction 
with  a  bow  that  combined  the  grace  of  Paderewski 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  295 

and  the  dignity  of  Prince  Florizel  in  just  the  right 
proportions. 

"Delighted  to  know  you,  Madame,"  he  declared. 
"Have  you  made  reservations,  Mr.  Lubliner?" 

Elkan  shook  his  head  and  after  an  exchange  of 
confidential  murmurs  Mr.  Williams  assigned  them 
a  room  with  an  ocean  view,  from  which  they  emerged 
less  than  half  an  hour  later  to  await  on  the  ver- 
anda the  welcome  sound  of  the  dinner  gong. 
A  buzz  of  animated  conversation  filled  the  air, 
above  which  rose  a  little  shriek  of  welcome  as 
Mrs.  Gans  rushed  toward  Yetta  with  outstretched 
hands. 

"Why,  hello,  Yetta!"  she  cried.  "I  didn't  know 
you  was  coming  down  here." 

They  exchanged  the  kiss  of  utter  peace  that  per- 
sists between  the  kin  of  highgrade  and  popular- 
priced  manufacturers. 

"I  read  about  you  in  the  newspapers,"  Yetta 
said,  as  they  seated  themselves  in  adjoining  rockers, 
and  Mrs.  Gans  flashed  all  the  gems  of  her  right 
hand  in  a  gesture  of  deprecatio 

"I  tell  you,"  she  said,  "it  makes  me  sick  here 
the  way  people  carries  on.  Honestly,  Yetta,  I 
don't  see  Barney  only  at  meals  and  when  he's 
getting  dressed.  Everything  is  Mister  Scharley, 
Mister  Scharley.  You  would  think  he  was  H.  P. 
Morgan  oder  the  Czar  of  Russland  from  the  fuss 
everybody  makes  over  him." 


296  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Yetta  nodded  in  sympathy  and  suddenly  Mrs. 
Cans  clutched  the  arm  of  her  chair. 

"There  he  is  now,"  she  hissed. 

"Where?"  Yetta  asked,  and  Mrs.  Cans  nodded 
toward  a  doorway  at  the  end  of  the  veranda,  on 
which  in  electric  bulbs  was  outlined  the  legend, 
"Hanging  Gardens."  Yetta  descried  a  short,  stout 
personage  between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age, 
arrayed  in  a  white  flannel  suit  of  which  the  coat  and 
waistcoat  were  cut  in  imitation  of  an  informal 
evening  costume.  On  his  arm  there  drooped  a 
lady  no  longer  in  her  twenties,  and  from  the  V-shaped 
opening  in  the  rear  of  her  dinner  gown  a  medical 
student  could  have  distinguished  with  more  or  less 
certainty  the  bones  of  the  cervical  vertebrae,  the 
right  and  left  scapula  and  the  articulation  of  each 
with  the  humerus  and  clavicle. 

"That's  Miss  Feldman,"  Mrs.  Cans  whispered. 
"She's  refined  like  anything,  Yetta,  and  she  talks 
French  better  as  a  waiter  already." 

At  this  juncture  the  dinner  gong  sounded  and 
Yetta  rejoined  Elkan  in  the  social  hall. 

"What  is  the  trouble  you  are  looking  so  rachmonos, 
Elkan?"  she  asked  as  she  pressed  his  arm  consol- 
ingly. 

"To-night  it's  Sol  Klinger,"  Elkan  replied.  "He's 
got  a  dinner  on  in  the  Hanging  Gardens  for  Scharley, 
Yetta,  and  I  guess  I  wouldn't  get  a  look-in  even." 

"You've  got  six  weeks  before  you,"  Yetta  assured 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  297 

him,  "and  you  shouldn't  worry.  Something  is 
bound  to  turn  up,  ain't  it?" 

She  gave  his  arm  another  little  caress  and  they 
proceeded  immediately  to  the  dining  room,  where 
the  string  orchestra  and  the  small  talk  of  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  guests  strove  vainly  for  the  ascendency 
in  one  maddening  cacophony.  It  was  nearly  eight 
o'clock  before  Elkan  and  Yetta  arose  from  the  table 
and  repaired  to  the  veranda  whose  rockers  were 
filled  with  a  chattering  throng. 

"Let's  get  out  of  this,"  Elkan  said,  and  they 
descended  the  veranda  steps  to  the  sidewalk.  Five 
minutes  later  they  were  seated  on  a  remote  bench 
of  the  boardwalk,  and  until  nine  o'clock  they  watched 
the  beauty  of  the  moon  and  sea,  which  is  constant 
even  at  Egremont  Beach.  When  they  rose  to  go 
Yetta  noticed  for  the  first  time  a  shawl- clad  figure 
on  the  adjacent  bench,  and  immediately  a  pair  of 
keen  eyes  flashed  from  a  face  whose  plump  content- 
ment was  framed  in  a  jet  black  wig  of  an  early 
Victorian  design. 

"Why,  if  it  ain't  Mrs.  Lesengeld,"  Yetta  ex- 
claimed and  the  next  moment  she  enfolded  the 
little  woman  in  a  cordial  embrace. 

"You  grown  a  bisschen  fat,  Yetta,"  Mrs.  Lesen- 
geld said.  "I  wouldn't  knew  you  at  all,  if  you  ain't 
speaking  to  me  first." 

"This    is    my   husband,   Mrs.    Lesengeld  —  Mr. 


298  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Lubliner,"  Yetta  went  on.  "He  heard  me  talk 
often  from  you,  Mrs.  Lesengeld,  and  what  a  time 
you  got  it  learning  me  I  should  speak  English  yet." 

Elkan  beamed  at  Mrs.  Lesengeld. 

"And  not  only  that"  he  said,  "but  also  how 
good  to  her  you  was  when  she  was  sick  already. 
There  ain't  many  boarding-house  ladies  like  you, 
Mrs.  Lesengeld." 

"And  there  ain't  so  many  boarders  like  Yetta, 
neither,"  Mrs.  Lesengeld  retorted. 

"And  do  you  got  a  boarding-house  down  here, 
Mrs.  Lesengeld?"  Yetta  asked. 

"I've  gone  out  of  the  boarding-house  business," 
Mrs.  Lesengeld  replied,  "which  you  know  what  a 
trouble  I  got  it  mit  that  lowlife  Lesengeld,  olav 
hasholom,  after  he  failed  in  the  pants  business, 
how  I  am  working  my  fingers  to  the  bones  already 
keeping  up  his  insurings  in  the  I.  O.  M.  A.  and  a 
couple  thousand  dollars  in  a  company  already." 

Yetta  nodded. 

"Which  I  got  my  reward  at  last,"  Mrs.  Lesengeld 
concluded.  "Quick  diabetes,  Yetta,  and  so  I  bought 
for  ten  thousand  dollars  a  mortgage,  understand 
me,  and  my  son-in-law  allows  me  also  four  dollars 
a  week  which  I  got  it  a  whole  lot  easier  nowadays." 

"And  are  you  staying  down  here?"  Elkan  asked. 

"Me,  I  got  for  twenty  dollars  a  month  a  little 
house  mit  two  rooms  only,  right  on  the  sea,  which 
they  call  it  there  Bognor  Park.  You  must  come 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  299 

over  and  see  us,  Yetta.  Such  a  gemutlich  little 
house  we  got  it  you  wouldn't  believe  at  all,  and  every 
Sunday  my  daughter  Fannie  and  my  son-in-law 
comes  down  and  stays  with  us." 

"And  are  you  going  all  the  way  home  alone?" 
Elkan  asked  anxiously. 

"Fannie  is  staying  down  with  me  to-night.  She 
meets  me  on  the  corner  of  the  Boulevard,  where 
the  car  stops,  at  ten  o'clock  already,"  Mrs.  Lesen- 
geld  replied. 

"Then  you  must  got  to  come  right  along  with  us," 
Elkan  said,  "and  we'll  see  you  would  get  there 
on  time." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  Mrs.  Lesengeld  asked. 

"Over  to  the  Salisbury,"  Elkan  answered,  and 
Mrs.  Lesengeld  sank  back  on  to  the  bench. 

"Geh  weg,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  she  cried.  "I  am  now 
fifty  years  old  and  I  was  never  in  such  a  place 
in  my  life,  especially  which  under  this  shawl  I  got 
only  a  plain  cotton  dress  yet." 

Elkan  flapped  his  hand  reassuringly. 

"A  fine-looking  lady  like  you,  Mrs.  Lesengeld," 
he  said,  as  he  seized  her  hands  and  drew  her  gently 
to  her  feet,  "looks  well  in  anything." 

"And  you'll  have  a  water  ice  in  the  Hanging 
Gardens  with  us,"  Yetta  persisted  as  she  slipped 
a  hand  under  Mrs.  Lesengeld's  shawl  and  pressed 
her  arm  affectionately.  Ten  minutes  later  they 
arrived  at  the  stoop  of  the  New  Salisbury,  to 


300  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

the  scandalization  and  horror  of  the  three  score  A 
to  F  first  credit  manufacturers  and  their  wives. 
Moreover,  approximately  a  hundred  and  fifty 
karats  of  blue  white  diamonds  rose  and  fell 
indignantly  on  the  bosoms  of  twenty  or  thirty 
credit-high  retailers'  wives,  when  the  little,  toil- 
worn  woman  with  her  shawl  and  ritualistic  wig 
entered  the  Hanging  Gardens  chatting  pleasantly 
with  Elkan  and  Yetta;  and  as  they  seated  themselves 
at  a  table  the  buzz  of  conversation  hushed  into 
silence  and  then  roared  out  anew  with  an  accom- 
paniment of  titters. 

At  the  next  table  Sol  Klinger  plied  with  liquors 
and  cigars  the  surviving  guests  of  his  dinner,  and 
when  Elkan  nodded  to  him,  he  ignored  the  salutation 
with  a  blank  stare.  He  raged  inwardly,  not  so 
much  at  Elkan's  invasion  of  that  fashionable  pre- 
cinct as  at  the  circumstance  that  his  guest  of  honour 
had  departed  with  Miss  Feldman  for  a  stroll  on  the 
boardwalk  some  ten  minutes  previously,  and  he 
was  therefore  unable  to  profit  by  Elkan's  faux  pas. 

"The  feller  ain't  got  no  manners  at  all,"  he  said 
to  Max  Koblin,  who  nodded  gloomily. 

"It's  getting  terrible  mixed  down  here,  Sol," 
Max  commented  as  he  hiccoughed  away  a  slight 
flatulency.  "Honestly  if  you  want  to  be  in  striking 
distance  of  your  business,  Sol,  so's  you  could  come 
in  and  out  every  day,  you  got  to  rub  shoulders 
with  everybody,  ain't  it?" 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  301 

He  soothed  his  outraged  sensibilities  with  a  great 
cloud  of  smoke  that  drifted  over  Elkan's  table, 
and  Mrs.  Lesengeld  broke  into  a  fit  of  coughing  which 
caused  a  repetition  of  the  titters. 

"And  do  you  still  make  that  brown  stewed  fish 
sweet  and  sour,  Mrs.  Lesengeld?"  Yetta  asked  by 
way  of  putting  the  old  lady  at  her  ease. 

"Make  it!"  Mrs.  Lesengeld  answered.  "I  should 
say  I  do.  Why  you  wouldn't  believe  the  way  my 
son-in-law  is  crazy  about  it.  We  got  it  every  Sun- 
day regular,  and  I  tell  you  what  I  would  do,  Yetta." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  Yetta's  arm  and  her  face 
broke  into  a  thousand  tiny  wrinkles  of  hospitality. 

"You  should  come  Friday  to  lunch  sure,"  she 
declared,  "and  we  would  got  some  brown  stewed 
fish  sweet  and  sour  and  a  good  plate  of  bortch 
to  begin  with." 

Sol  Klinger  had  been  leaning  back  in  his  chair 
in  an  effort  to  overhear  their  conversation,  and  at 
this  announcement  he  broke  into  a  broad  guffaw, 
which  ran  around  the  table  after  he  had  related  the 
cause  of  it  to  his  guests.  Indeed,  so  much  did  Sol 
relish  the  joke  that  with  it  he  entertained  the  occu- 
pants of  about  a  dozen  seats  in  the  smoking  car  of 
the  8:04  express  the  next  morning,  and  he  was 
so  full  of  it  when  he  entered  Hammersmith's  Res- 
taurant the  following  noon  that  he  could  not 
forego  the  pleasure  of  visiting  Marcus  Polatkin's 
table  and  relating  it  to  Polatkin  himself. 


302  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Polatkin  heard  him  through  without  a  smile 
and  when  at  its  conclusion  Klinger  broke  into  a 
hysterical  appreciation  of  his  own  humour,  Polatkin 
shrugged. 

"I  suppose,  Klinger,"  he  said,  "your  poor  mother, 
olav  hasholom,  didn't  wear  a  sheitel  neither,  ain't 
it?" 

"My  mother,  olav  hasholom,  would  got  more  sense 
as  to  butt  in  to  a  place  like  that,"  Klinger  retorted. 

"Even  if  you  wouldn't  of  been  ashamed  to  have 
taken  her  there,  Klinger,"  he  added. 

Klinger  flushed  angrily. 

"That  ain't  here  or  there,  Polatkin,"  he  said. 
"You  should  ought  to  put  your  partner  wise,  Polat- 
kin, that  he  shouldn't  go  dragging  in  an  old  Bube 
into  a  place  like  the  Salisbury  and  talking  such 
nonsense  like  brown  stewed  fish  sweet  and  sour." 

He  broke  into  another  laugh  at  the  recollection 
of  it  —  a  laugh  that  was  louder  but  hardly  as 
unforced  as  the  first  one. 

"What's  the  matter  mit  brown  stewed  fish  sweet 
and  sour,  Klinger?"  Polatkin  asked.  "I  eat  already 
a  lot  of  a-la?s  and  en  cazzerolls  in  a  whole  lot  of 
places  just  so  grossartig  as  the  Salisbury,  understand 
me,  and  I  would  schenck  you  a  million  of  'em  for 
one  plate  of  brown  stewed  fish  sweet  and  sour 
like  your  mother  made  it  from  zu  Hause  yet." 

"But  what  for  an  interest  does  a  merchant  like 
Scharley  got  to  hear  such  things,"  Klinger  protested 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  303 

lamely.  " Honestly,  I  was  ashamed  for  your  part- 
ner's sake  to  hear  such  a  talk  going  on  there." 

"Did  Scharley  got  any  objections?"  Polatkin 
asked. 

"Fortunately  the  feller  had  gone  away  from  the 
table,"  Klinger  replied,  "so  he  didn't  hear  it  at  all." 

"Well,"  Polatkin  declared,  taking  up  his  knife 
and  fork  as  a  signal  that  the  matter  was  closed, 
"ask  him  and  see  if  he  wouldn't  a  whole  lot  sooner 
eat  some  good  brown  stewed  fish  sweet  and  sour 
as  a  Chinese  Lantern  Dinner  — •  whatever  for  a 
bunch  of  poison  that  might  be,  Klinger  —  and  don't 
you  forget  it." 

Nevertheless  when  Polatkin  returned  to  his  place 
of  business  he  proceeded  at  once  to  Elkan's  office. 

"Say,  lookyhere  Elkan,"  he  demanded,  "what 
is  all  this  I  hear  about  you  and  Yetta  taking  an  old 
Bube  into  the  Hanging  Gardens  already,  and  making 
from  her  laughing  stocks  out  of  the  whole  place." 

Elkan  looked  up  calmly. 

"It's  a  free  country,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  he  said, 
"and  so  long  as  I  pay  my  board  mit  U.  S.  money, 
already  I  would  take  in  there  any  of  my  friends 
I  would  please." 

"Sure,  I  know,"  Polatkin  expostulated,  "but  I 
seen  Klinger  around  at  Hammersmith's  and  he 
says " 

"Klinger!"  Elkan  exclaimed.  "Well,  you  could 
say  to  Klinger  for  me,  Mr.  Polatkin,  that  if  he  don't 


3o4  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

like  the  way  I  am  acting  around  there,  understand 
me,  he  should  just  got  the  nerve  to  tell  it  me  to  my 
face  yet." 

Polatkin  flapped  the  air  with  his  right  hand. 

"Never  mind  Klinger,  Elkan,"  he  said.  "You 
got  to  consider  you  shouldn't  make  a  fool  of  yourself 
before  Scharley  and  all  them  people.  How  do  you 
expect  you  should  get  such  a  merchant  as  Scharley 
he  should  accept  from  you  entertainment  like  a 
Chinese  Lantern  Dinner,  if  you  are  acting  that 
way?" 

"Chinese  Lantern  Dinner  be  damned!"  Elkan 
retorted.  "When  we  got  the  right  goods  at  the  right 
price,  Mr.  Polatkin,  why  should  we  got  to  give  a 
merchant  dinners  yet  to  convince  him  of  it?" 

"Dinners  is  nothing,  Elkan,"  Polatkin  interrupted 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  "You  got  to  give  him 
dyspepsha  even,  the  way  business  is  nowadays." 

"Aber  I  was  talking  to  the  room  clerk  last  night," 
Elkan  went  on,  "and  he  tells  me  so  sure  as  you 
are  standing  there,  Mr.  Polatkin,  a  Chinese  Lantern 
Dinner  would  stand  us  in  twenty  dollars  a  head." 

"Twenty  dollars  a  head!"  Polatkin  exclaimed  and 
indulged  himself  in  a  low  whistle. 

"So  even  if  I  would  be  staying  at  the  Salisbury, 
understand  me,"  Elkan  said,  "I  ain't  going  to  throw 
away  our  money  out  of  the  window  exactly." 

"Aber  how  are  you  going  to  get  the  feller  down 
here,  if  you  wouldn't  entertain  him  or  something?" 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  305 

Elkan  slapped  his  chest  with  a  great  show  of 
confidence. 

"Leave  that  to  me,  Mr.  Polatkin,"  he  said,  and 
put  on  his  hat  preparatory  to  going  out  to  lunch. 

Nevertheless  when  he  descended  from  his  room 
at  the  New  Salisbury  that  evening  and  prepared 
to  take  a  turn  on  the  boardwalk  before  dinner, 
his  confidence  evaporated  at  the  coolness  of  his 
reception  by  the  assembled  guests  of  the  hotel. 
Leon  Sammet  cut  him  dead,  and  even  B.  Cans 
greeted  him  with  half  jovial  reproach. 

"Well,  Elkan,"  he  said,  "going  to  entertain  any 
more  fromme  Leute  in  the  Garden  to-night?" 

"Seemingly,  Mr.  Cans,"  Elkan  said,  "it  was  a 
big  shock  to  everybody  here  to  see  for  the  first  time 
an  old  lady  wearing  a  sheitel.  I  suppose  nobody 
here  never  seen  it  before,  ain't  it?" 

B.  Gans  put  a  fatherly  hand  on  Elkan's  shoulder. 

"I'll  tell  yer,  Elkan,"  he  said,  "if  I  would  be  such 
a  rosher,  understand  me,  that  I  would  hold  it  against 
you  because  you  ain't  forgetting  an  old  friend,  like 
this  here  lady  must  be,  y'understand,  I  should 
never  sell  a  dollar's  worth  more  goods  so  long  as  I 
live,  aber  if  Klinger  and  Sammet  would  start  kidding 
you  in  front  of  Scharley,  understand  me,  it  would 
look  bad." 

"Why  would  it  look  bad,  Mr.  Gans?"  Elkan 
broke  in. 

"Because  it  don't  do  nobody  no  good  to  have 


3o6  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

funny  stories  told  about  'em,  except  an  actor  oder 
a  politician,  Elkan,"  Cans  replied  as  the  dinner 
gong  began  to  sound,  "which  if  a  customer  wouldn't 
take  you  seriously,  he  wouldn't  take  your  goods 
seriously  neither,  Elkan,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

He  smiled  reassuringly  as  he  walked  toward  the 
dining  room  and  left  Elkan  a  prey  to  most  uncom- 
fortable reflections,  which  did  not  abate  when  he 
overheard  Klinger  and  Sammet  hail  Cans  at  the 
end  of  the  veranda. 

"Well,  Mr.  Cans,"  Klinger  said  with  a  sidelong 
glance  at  Elkan,  "what  are  you  going  to  eat  to- 
night—  brown  stewed  fish  sweet  und  sour?" 

Elkan  could  not  distinguish  B.  Cans'  reply,  but 
he  scowled  fiercely  at  the  trio  as  they  entered  the 
hotel  lobby,  and  he  still  frowned  as  he  sauntered 
stolidly  after  them  to  await  Yetta  in  the  social  hall. 

"What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  the  room 
clerk  asked  when  Elkan  passed  the  desk.  "Aren't 
you  feeling  well  to-day?" 

"I  feel  all  right,  Mr.  Williams,"  Elkan  replied, 
"but  this  here  place  is  getting  on  my  nerves.  It's 
too  much  like  a  big  hotel  out  on  the  road  some- 
wheres.  Everybody  looks  like  they  would  got 
something  to  sell,  understand  me,  and  was  doing 
their  level  best  to  sell  it." 

"You're  quite  right,  Mr.  Lubliner,"  the  clerk 
commented,  "and  that's  the  reason  why  I  came  down 
here.  In  fact,"  he  added  with  a  guilty  smile,  "I 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  307 

made  a  date  to  show  some  of  my  lots  to-morrow  to 
a  prospective  customer." 

At  this  juncture  a  porter  appeared  bearing  a  basket 
of  champagne  and  followed  by  two  waiters  with 
ice  buckets,  and  the  room  clerk  jerked  his  head 
sideways  in  the  direction  toward  which  the  little 
procession  had  disappeared. 

"That's  for  Suite  27,  the  Feldmans'  rooms,"  he 
explained.  "Miss  Feldman  is  giving  a  little  chafing- 
dish  dinner  there  to  Mr.  Scharley  and  a  few  friends." 

He  accepted  with  a  graceful  nod  Elkan's  proffered 
cigar. 

"Which  goes  to  show  that  it's  as  you  say,  Mr. 
Lubliner,"  he  concluded.  "If  you  have  drygoods, 
real  estate  or  marriageable  relatives  to  dispose  of, 
Mr.  Lubliner,  Egremont's  the  place  to  market  them." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Williams,"  said  Jacob  Scharley  at 
two  o'clock  the  following  afternoon  as  they  trudged 
along  the  sands  of  Bognor  Park,  one  of  Egremont 
Beach's  new  developments,  "I  was  trying  to  figure 
out  how  these  here  Chinese  Lantern  Dinners  stands 
in  a  sucker  like  Leon  Sammet  twenty  dollars  a  head, 
when  by  the  regular  bill  of  fare  it  comes  exactly 
to  seven  dollars  and  fifty  cents  including  drinks." 

"You  can't  figure  on  a  special  dinner  according 
to  the  prices  on  the  regular  bill  of  fare,"  said  Mr. 
Williams,  the  room  clerk,  who  in  his  quality  of  real- 
estate  operator  was  attempting  to  shift  the  conver- 


3o8  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

sation  from  hotel  matters  to  the  topic  of  seaside  lots. 
"Why,  ice  cream  is  twenty-five  cents  on  the  bill  of 
fare,  but  at  one  of  those  dinners  it's  served  in  imita- 
tion Chinese  lanterns,  which  makes  it  worth  double 
at  least." 

"For  my  part,"  Scharley  broke  in,  "they  could 
serve  it  in  kerosene  lamps,  Mr.  Williams,  because 
I  never  touch  the  stuff." 

"It's  a  parallel  case  to  lots  here  and  lots  on 
Mizzentop  Beach,  which  is  the  next  beach  below," 
Williams  continued.  "Here  we  have  a  boardwalk 
extending  right  down  to  our  property,  and  we  are 
getting  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  lot,  while 
there,  with  practically  the  same  transit  facilities  but 
no  boardwalk  or  electric  lights,  they  get  only  four 
hundred  and " 

" Aber  you  take  a  piece  of  tenderloin  steak  a  half 
an  inch  thick  and  about  the  size  of  a  price  ticket, 
understand  me,"  Scharley  interrupted,  "and  even 
if  you  would  fix  it  up  with  half  a  cent's  worth  of 
peas  and  spill  on  it  a  bottle  cough  medicine  and 
glue,  verstehst  du  mich,  how  could  you  make  it  figure 
up  more  as  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  Mr.  Williams? 
Then  the  clams,  Mr.  Williams,  must  got  to  have 
inside  of  'em  at  the  very  least  a  half  a  karat  pink 
pearl  in  'em,  otherwise  thirty-five  cents  would  be 
big  yet." 

"Very  likely,"  Mr.  Williams  agreed  as  a  shade 
of  annoyance  passed  over  his  well  modelled  features, 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  309 

"but  just  now,  Mr.  Scharley,  I'm  anxious  to  show 
you  the  advantage  of  these  lots  of  ours,  and  you 
won't  mind  if  I  don't  pursue  the  topic  of  Chinese 
Lantern  Dinners  any  farther." 

"I'm  only  too  glad  not  to  talk  about  it  at  all," 
Scharley  agreed.  "In  fact  if  any  one  else  tries  to 
ring  in  another  one  of  them  dinners  on  me,  Mr. 
Williams,  I'll  turn  him  down  on  the  spot.  Shaving- 
dish  parties  neither,  which  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Wil- 
liams, even  if  Miss  Feldman  would  be  an  elegant, 
refined  young  lady,  understand  me,  she  fixes  some- 
thing in  that  shaving  dish  of  hers  last  night,  under- 
stand me,  which  I  thought  I  was  poisoned  already." 

Williams  deemed  it  best  to  ignore  this  observation 
and  therefore  made  no  comment. 

"But  anyhow,"  Scharley  concluded  as  they  ap- 
proached a  little  wooden  shack  on  the  margin  of 
the  water,  "I'm  sick  and  tired  of  things  to  eat, 
so  let's  talk  about  something  else." 

Having  delivered  this  ultimatum,  his  footsteps 
lagged  and  he  stopped  short  as  he  began  to  sniff 
the  air  like  a  hunting  dog. 

"M-m-m-m!"  he  exclaimed.     "What  is  that?" 

"That's  a  two-room  shed  we  rent  for  twenty 
dollars  a  month,"  Williams  explained.  "We  have 
eight  of  them  and  they  help  considerably  to  pay 
our  office  rent  over  in  New  York." 

"Sure  I  know,"  Scharley  agreed,  " aber,  m-m- 
m-m!" 


3io  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

Once  more  he  expanded  his  nostrils  to  catch  a  deli- 
cious fragrance  that  emanated  from  the  little  shack. 

"Aber,  who  lives  there?"  he  insisted,  and  Mr. 
Williams  could  not  restrain  a  laugh. 

"Why,  it's  that  old  lady  with  the  wig  that 
Lubliner  brought  over  to  the  hotel  the  other  night," 
he  replied.  "I  thought  I  saw  Sol  Klinger  telling 
you  about  it  yesterday." 

"He  started  to  tell  me  something  about  it," 
Scharley  said,  "when  Barney  Cans  butted  in  and 
wouldn't  let  him.  What  was  it  about  this  here 
old  lady?" 

"There  isn't  anything  to  it  particularly,"  Wil- 
liams replied,  "excepting  that  it  seemed  a  little 
strange  to  see  an  old  lady  in  a  shawl  and  one  of 
those  religious  wigs  in  the  Hanging  Gardens,  and 
there  was  something  else  Klinger  told  me  about 
Mrs.  Lubliner  and  the  old  lady  talking  about  brown 
stewed  fish  sweet  and " 

At  this  juncture  Scharley  snapped  his  fingers 
excitedly. 

"Brown  stewed  fish  sweet  and  sour!"  he  almost 
shouted.  "I  ain't  smelled  it  since  I  was  a  boy 
already." 

He  wagged  his  head  and  again  murmured, 
"M-m-m-m-m!" 

Suddenly  he  received  an  inspiration. 

"How  much  did  you  say  them  shanties  rents 
for,  Mr.  Williams?  "he  said. 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  311 

"Twenty  dollars  a  month,"  Williams  replied. 

"You  don't  tell  me!"  Scharley  exclaimed  solemnly. 
"  I  wonder  if  I  could  give  a  look  at  the  inside  of  one 
of  'em  —  this  one  here,  for  instance." 

"I  don't  think  there'd  be  any  objection,"  Williams 
said,  and  no  sooner  were  the  words  out  of  his  mouth 
than  Scharley  started  off  on  a  half  trot  for  the 
miniature  veranda  on  the  ocean  side  of  the  little 
house. 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  inquire  first  if  it's  convenient 
for  them  to  let  us  in  now,"  Williams  said,  as  he 
bounded  after  his  prospective  customer  and  knocked 
gently  on  the  doorjamb.  There  was  a  sound  of 
scurrying  feet  within,  and  at  length  the  door  was 
opened  a  few  inches  and  the  bewigged  head  of  Mrs. 
Lesengeld  appeared  in  the  crack. 

"Nu,"  she  said,  "what  is  it?" 

"I  represent  the  Bognor  Park  Company,"  Wil- 
liams replied,  "and  if  it's  perfectly  convenient  for 
you,  Mrs. " 

"Lesengeld,"  she  added. 

"Used  to  was  Lesengeld  &  Schein  in  the  pants 
business?"  Scharley  asked,  and  Mrs.  Lesengeld 
nodded. 

"Why,  Lesengeld  and  me  was  lodge  brothers 
together  in  the  I.  O.  M.  A.  before  I  went  out  to 
the  Pacific  Coast  years  ago  already,"  Scharley 
declared.  "I  guess  he's  often, spoken  to  you  about 
Jake  Scharley,  ain't  it?" 


3i2  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Maybe  he  did,  Mr.  Scharley,  aber  he's  dead 
schon  two  years  since  already,"  Mrs.  Lesengeld 
said,  and  then  added  the  pious  hope,  " olav  hasholom" 

"You  don't  say  so,"  Scharley  cried  in  shocked 
accents.  "Why,  he  wasn't  no  older  as  me  already." 

"Fifty-three  when  he  died,"  Mrs.  Lesengeld  said. 
"  Quick  diabetes,  Mr.  Scharley.  Wouldn't  you  step 
inside?" 

Scharley  and  Williams  passed  into  the  front 
room,  which  was  used  as  a  living  room  and  presented 
an  appearance  of  remarkable  neatness  and  order. 
In  the  corner  stood  an  oil  stove  on  which  two 
saucepans  bubbled  and  steamed,  and  as  Mrs.  Lesen- 
geld turned  to  follow  her  visitors  one  of  the  sauce- 
pans boiled  over. 

"Oo-ee!"  she  exclaimed.     "Mein  fisch." 

"Go  ahead  and  tend  to  it,"  Scharley  cried  excit- 
edly; "  don't  mind  us.  It  might  get  burned  already." 

He  watched  her  anxiously  while  she  turned  down 
the  flame. 

'Brown  stewed  fish  sweet  and  sour,  ain't  it?" 
he  asked,  and  Mrs.  Lesengeld  nodded  as  she  lowered 
the  flame  to  just  the  proper  height. 

"I  thought  it  was,"  Scharley  continued.  "I  ain't 
smelled  it  in  forty  years  already.  My  poor  mother, 
olav  hasholom,  used  to  fix  it  something  elegant." 

He  heaved  a  sigh  as  he  sat  down  on  a  nearby 
campstool. 

"This  smells  just  like  it,"  he  added.     In  front 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  313 

of  the  window  a  table  had  been  placed,  spread  with 
a  spotless  white  cloth  and  laid  for  two  persons,  and 
Scharley  glanced  at  it  hastily  and  turned  his  head 
away. 

"Forty  years  ago  come  next  Shevuos  I  ain't 
tasted  if  already,"  he  concluded. 

Mrs.  Lesengeld  coloured  slightly  and  clutched  at 
her  apron  in  an  agony  of  embarrassment. 

"The  fact  is  we  only  got  three  knives  and  forks," 
she  said,  "otherwise  there  is  plenty  fish  for  every- 
body." 

"Why,  we  just  had  our  lunch  at  the  hotel  before 
we  started,"  Mr.  Williams  said. 

"  You  did,"  Scharley  corrected  him  reproachfully, 
"  aber  I  ain't  hardly  touched  a  thing  since  last  night. 
That  shaving-dish  party  pretty  near  killed  me, 
already." 

"Well,  then,  we  got  just  enough  knives  and  forks," 
Mrs.  Lesengeld  cried.  "Do  you  like  maybe  also 
Bortch,  Mr.  Scharley?" 

"  Bortch!"  Mr.  Scharley  exclaimed,  and  his  voice 
trembled  with  excitement.  "Do  you  mean  a  sort 
of  soup  mit  beets  and  —  and  —  all  that?" 

"That's  it,"  Mrs.  Lesengeld  replied,  and  Scharley 
nodded  his  head  slowly. 

"Mrs.  Lesengeld,"  he  said,  "would  you  believe 
me,  it's  so  long  since  I  tasted  that  stuff  I  didn't 
remember  such  a  thing  exists  even." 

"And  do  you  like  it?"  Mrs.  Lesengeld  repeated, 


3i4  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Do  I  like  it!"  Scharley  cried.  "  Urn  Gottes 
Willen,  Mrs.  Lesengeld,  I  love  it." 

"Then  sit  right  down,"  she  said  heartily.  "Every- 
thing is  ready." 

"If  you  don't  mind,  Mr.  Scharley,"  Williams 
interrupted,  "I'll  wait  for  you  at  the  office  of  the 
company.  It's  only  a  couple  of  hundred  yards 
down  the  beach." 

"Go  as  far  as  you  like,  Mr.  Williams,"  Scharley 
said  as  he  tucked  a  napkin  between  his  collar  and 
chin.  "I'll  be  there  when  I  get  through." 

After  Mrs.  Lesengeld  had  ushered  out  Mr.  Wil- 
liams, she  proceeded  to  the  door  of  the  rear  room 
and  knocked  vigorously. 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Yetta,  and  come  on  out," 
she  called.  "It  ain't  nobody  but  an  old  friend 
of  my  husband's." 

A  moment  later  Yetta  entered  the  room,  and 
Scharley  scrambled  to  his  feet,  a  knife  grasped  firmly 
in  one  hand,  and  bobbed  his  head  cordially. 

"Pleased  to  meetcher,"  he  said. 

"This  is  Mrs.  Lubliner,  Mr.  Scharley,"  Mrs. 
Lesengeld  said. 

"Don't  make  no  difference,  Mrs.  Lesengeld," 
Scharley  assured  her,  "any  friend  of  yours  is  a  friend 
of  mine,  so  you  should  sit  right  down,  Mrs.  Lubliner, 
on  account  we  are  all  ready  to  begin." 

Then  followed  a  moment  of  breathless  silence 
while  Mrs.  Lesengeld  dished  up  the  beetroot  soup, 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  315 

and  when  she  placed  a  steaming  bowlful  in  front  of 
Scharley  he  immediately  plunged  his  spoon  into 
it.  A  moment  later  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling. 

"Oo-ee!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  an  elegant 
soup!" 

Mrs.  Lesengeld  blushed,  and  after  the  fashion 
of  a  cordon  bleu  the  world  over,  she  began  to  decry 
her  own  handiwork. 

"It  should  ought  to  got  just  a  Bisschen  more 
pepper  into  it,"  she  murmured. 

"Oser  a  Stuck"  Scharley  declared  solemnly,  as  he 
consumed  the  contents  of  his  bowl  in  great  gurgling 
inhalations.  "There's  only  one  thing  I  got  to  say 
against  it." 

He  scraped  his  bowl  clean  and  handed  it  to  Mrs. 
Lesengeld. 

"And  that  is,"  he  concluded,  "that  it  makes  me 
eat  so  much  of  it,  understand  me,  I'm  scared  I 
wouldn't  got  no  room  for  the  brown  stewed  fish." 

Again  he  emptied  the  bowl,  and  at  last  the  moment 
arrived  when  the  brown  stewed  fish  smoked  upon 
the  table.  Mrs.  Lesengeld  helped  Scharley  to  a 
heaping  plateful,  and  both  she  and  Yetta  watched 
him  intently,  as  with  the  deftness  of  a  Japanese 
juggler  he  balanced  approximately  a  half  pound 
of  the  succulent  fish  on  the  end  of  his  fork.  For 
nearly  a  minute  he  blew  on  it,  and  when  it  reached 
an  edible  temperature  he  opened  wide  his  mouth 
and  thrust  the  fork  load  home.  Slowly  and  with 


316  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

great  smacking  of  his  moist  lips  he  chewed  away, 
and  then  his  eyes  closed  and  he  laid  down  his  knife 
and  fork. 

"Gan-eden!"  he  declared  as  he  reached  across  the 
table  and  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Lesengeld. 

"Mrs.  Lesengeld,"  he  said,  "my  mother  olav 
hasholom  was  a  good  cook,  understand  me,  aber  you 
are  a  good  cook,  Mrs.  Lesengeld,  and  that's  all  there 
is  to  it." 

Forthwith  he  resumed  his  knife  and  fork,  and  with 
only  two  pauses  for  the  necessary  replenishments, 
he  polished  of!  three  platefuls  of  the  fish,  after 
which  he  heaved  a  great  sigh  of  contentment,  and 
as  a  prelude  to  conversation  he  lit  one  of  B.  Cans' 
choicest  cigars. 

"There's  some  dessert  coming,"  Mrs.  Lesengeld 
said. 

"Dessert  after  this,  Mrs.  Lesengeld,"  he  replied, 
through  clouds  of  contented  smoke,  "would  be  a 
sacrilege,  ain't  it?" 

"That's  something  I  couldn't  make  at  all,"  Mrs. 
Lesengeld  admitted.  "All  I  got  it  here  is  some 
frimsel  kugel" 

"Frimsel  kugel!"  Scharley  exclaimed,  laying  down 
his  cigar.  "Why  ain't  you  told  me  that  before?" 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  again  lighted  his 
cigar,  and  this  time  he  settled  back  in  his  campstool 
for  conversation,  while  Mrs.  Lesengeld  busied  herself 
about  the  oil  stove.  Instantly,  however,  he  straight- 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  317 

ened  up  as  another  and  more  delicious  odour  assailed 
his  nostrils,  for  Mrs.  Lesengeld  made  coffee  by  a 
mysterious  process,  that  conserved  in  the  flavour  of 
the  decoction  the  delicious  fragrance  of  the  freshly 
ground  bean. 

"And  are  you  staying  down  here  with  Mrs. 
Lesengeld?"  Scharley  asked  Yetta  after  he  had 
finished  his  third  cup. 

"In  this  little  place  here?"  Mrs.  Lesengeld  cried 
indignantly.  "Well,  I  should  say  not.  She's  stop- 
ping at  the  Salisbury,  ain't  you,  Yetta?" 

Yetta  nodded  and  sighed. 

"It  ain't  so  comfortable  as  here,"  she  said. 

"I  bet  yer,"  Scharley  added  fervently.  "I  am 
stopping  there  too,  and  them  Chinese  Lantern 
Dinners  which  they  are  putting  up!" 

He  waved  his  hand  eloquently. 

"Poison  ain't  no  word  for  it,  Missus  Er "  he 

concluded  lamely  as  he  tried  to  remember  Yetta's 
name,  which  after  so  much  soup,  fish  and  coffee  had 
completely  escaped  him. 

"Lubliner,"  Yetta  said.  "I  guess  you  know  my 
husband,  Mr.  Scharley,  Elkan  Lubliner  of  Polatkin, 
Scheikowitz  &  Company. 

Scharley  struck  the  table  with  his  open  hand. 

" Zoitenly,  I  do,"  he  cried.  "Why,  he  is  the  feller 
which  Sol  Klinger  is  telling  me  about." 

Yetta  coloured  slightly  and  bit  her  lips. 

"Wbat  did  he  tell  you  about  him?"  she  asked. 


3i8  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"Why,"  Scharley  said,  drawing  vigorously  on  his 
imagination,  "he  says  to  me  what  a  bright  young 
feller  he  is  and " 

Here  he  reflected  that  in  a  highly  competitive 
trade  like  the  cloak  and  suit  business  this  statement 
sounded  a  trifle  exaggerated. 

"And,"  he  went  on  hurriedly,  "he  told  me  how 
he  saw  you  and  him  with  Mrs.  Lesengeld  up  at  the 
hotel  the  other  evening,  and  I  says,  'What,'  I  says, 
'you  don't  mean  Mrs.  Lesengeld  whose  husband 
used  to  was  in  the  pants  business?'  and  he  said 
he  didn't  know,  'because,'  I  says,  'if  that's  the  same 
party,'  I  says,  'I  would  like  for  her  to  come  up  to 
the  hotel  and  take  dinner  with  me  some  time,'  I  says." 

He  smiled  cordially  at  Mrs.  Lesengeld. 

"And  I  hope  you  will,"  he  concluded  earnestly, 
"to-morrow  night  sure." 

Mrs.  Lesengeld  shook  her  head. 

"I  ain't  fixed  to  go  to  no  swell  hotel,"  she  de- 
murred. "I  ain't  got  no  clothes  nor  nothing." 

"What  do  you  care  about  clothes,  Mrs.  Lesen- 
geld?" Scharley  protested. 

"And  besides,"  Yetta  said  with  sudden  inspira- 
tion, "we  could  get  up  a  little  chafing-dish  dinner 
in  our  room,  ain't  it?" 

"For  that  matter  we  could  do  it  in  my  room," 
Scharley  cried,  as  there  sounded  a  vigorous  knocking 
on  the  outside  of  the  door  leading  to  the  veranda, 
and  a  moment  later  Williams  entered. 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  319 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Scharley,"  he  said,  "but  I  have 
to  be  getting  back  to  the  hotel  and  if  you're  quite 
through  we'll  go  and  look  at  that  map  of  the  lots 
down  in  the  office." 

Scharley  waved  his  hand  airily. 

"Sit  down,  Mr.  Williams,"  he  said,  "and  drink 
the  cup  of  coffee  of  your  life." 

He  handed  the  room  clerk  a  cigar. 

"I  could  promise  you  one  thing,  Mr.  Williams," 
he  went  on,  "I  got  a  great  idee  of  buying  some  lots 
here  and  building  a  little  house  on  'em,  gemutlich 
just  like  this,  and  if  I  do,  Williams,  I  would  take 
them  lots  from  you  for  certain  sure.  Only 
one  thing,  Williams,  I  want  you  to  do  me  for  a 
favour." 

He  paused  and  puffed  carefully  on  his  cigar. 

"I  want  you  to  pick  me  out  a  couple  good  vacant 
rooms  on  the  top  floor  of  the  Salisbury  for  Saturday 
night,"  he  said,  "where  I  could  give  a  shaving-dish 
party,  so  if  any  of  the  guests  of  the  hotel  objects, 
understand  me,  they  wouldn't  get  the  smell  of  the 
Bortch,  coffee,  and  brown  stewed  fish  sweet  and 


On  the  following  Wednesday  afternoon  Elkan  sat 
at  his  desk,  while  Marcus  Polatkin  and  Philip 
Scheikowitz  leaned  over  his  left  shoulder  and  right 
shoulder  respectively,  and  watched  carefully  the  re- 
sult of  a  pencilled  addition  which  Elkan  was  making. 


320  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

"With  them  crepe  meteors,"  Elkan  said  at  last, 
"Scharley's  order  comes  to  four  thousand  three 
hundred  dollars. 

Polatkin  and  Scheikowitz  nodded  in  unison. 

"It  ain't  bad  for  a  start,"  Scheikowitz  volunteered 
as  he  sat  down  and  lit  a  cigar. 

"For  a  finish,  neither,"  Polatkin  added,  "so  far 
as  that's  concerned." 

Elkan  wheeled  round  in  his  chair  and  grinned 
delightedly. 

"And  you  ought  to  seen  Sol  Klinger  when  we 
walked  into  the  Hanging  Gardens,"  he  said.  "He 
got  white  like  a  sheet.  It  tickled  Scharley  to  death, 
and  he  went  right  to  work  and  put  his  arm  through 
Mrs.  Lesengeld's  arm  and  took  her  right  down 
to  the  middle  table,  like  she  would  be  a  queen 
already." 

"Sure,"  Scheikowitz  agreed,  "what  does  a 
real  merchant  like  Scharley  care  if  she  would 
wear  a  sheitel  oder  not,  so  long  as  she  is  a  lady 
already." 

Elkan's  grin  spread  until  it  threatened  to  engulf 
his  ears. 

"She  didn't  wear  no  sheitel"  he  said. 

"What!"  Scheikowitz  cried.  "I  didn't  think  a 
religious  woman  like  Mrs.  Lesengeld  would  take  off 
her  sheitel  at  her  time  of  life." 

"What  d'ye  mean  her  time  of  life?"  Elkan  cried 
indignantly.  "Friday  afternoon  yet  before  Yetta 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  321 

went  home  from  her  place  there  at  Bognor  Park, 
Mrs.  Lesengeld  says  to  her  that  a  widder  don't  got 
to  wear  no  sheitel  if  she  don't  want  to,  which  if  you 
think,  Mr.  Scheikowitz,  that  fifty-three  is  a  time  of 
life,  understand  me,  I  think  differencely,  especially 
when  I  seen  her  with  her  hair  all  fixed  up  on  Saturday 
night." 

"Who  fixed  it?"  Marcus  Polatkin  asked,  and  Elkan 
grinned  again. 

"Who  d'ye  suppose?"  he  replied.  "Why,  her 
and  Yetta  spent  pretty  near  an  hour  up  in  our  room 
before  they  got  through,  and  I  tell  yer  with  the  way 
they  turned  up  the  hem  and  fixed  the  sleeves  of  one 
of  Yetta's  black  dresses,  it  fitted  her  like  it  would 
be  made  for  her." 

"And  did  she  look  good  in  it?"  Scheikowitz 
inquired. 

"Did  she  look  good  in  it!"  Elkan  exclaimed. 
"Well,  you  can  just  bet  your  life,  Mr.  Polatkin,  that 
there  Hortense  Feldman  wasn't  one,  two,  six  with 
her.  In  fact,  Mr.  Polatkin,  you  would  take  your 
oath  already  that  there  wasn't  two  years  between 
'em.  I  had  a  good  chance  to  compare  'em  on 
account  when  we  went  down  to  the  Hanging  Gardens, 
understand  me,  Miss  Feldman  sits  at  the  next  table 
already." 

Polatkin  smiled  broadly. 

"She  must  have  had  a  big  Schreck"  he  com- 
mented. "Why,  B.  Cans  told  me  last  Saturday 


322  ELKAN  LUBLINER 

that  Henry  D.  Feldman  thinks  that  he's  going 
to  fix  the  whole  thing  up  between  her  and 
Scharley." 

"I  guess  he  ain't  got  that  idee  no  longer," 
Elkan  declared,  "because  everybody  in  Egre- 
mont  knows  Scharley  was  down  visiting  Mrs. 
Lesengeld  over  Sunday,  and  takes  her  and  her 
daughter  Fannie  and  Fannie's  husband  out  oiter- 
mobiling." 

"You  don't  tell  me?"  Scheikowitz  exclaimed. 

"Furthermore,  on  Monday,"  Elkan  continued, 
"he  goes  down  there  to  dinner  with  me  and  Yetta, 
and  Mrs.  Lesengeld  cooks  some  Tebeches  which  fairly 
melts  in  your  mouth  already." 

He  smacked  his  lips  over  the  recollection. 

"Yesterday,  as  you  know,"  he  went  on,  "I  took 
Scharley  and  Mrs.  Lesengeld  over  to  Coney  Island 
in  an  oitermobile  and  to-night  yet  we  are  all  going 
sailing  on  Egremont  Bay." 

Polatkin  rose  to  his  feet  and  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"Well,"  he  -said,  "why  not?  They're  about  the 
same  age." 

"He's  two  years  older  as  she  is,"  Elkan  declared, 
"and  I  bet  yer  they  wouldn't  lose  no  time.  It'll 
be  next  fall  sure." 

One  busy  morning  three  months  later  Elkan  ripped 
open  a  heavy  cream-laid  envelope  and  drew  out 


SWEET  AND  SOUR  323 

the   following   announcement,   engraved   in   shaded 
old  English  type: 


*  Ifannie 

il)t  f>onor  of  announcing  ti;r  marriage 
of  £er  mother 


to 

.  Jacob  bc&arlq> 


£Dn  SEueeUap  tfce  first  of  SDctober 
at  6an  jprancieco,  California 


"And  what  are  we  going  to  send  them  for  a  pres- 
ent?" Polatkin  asked. 

Elkan  smiled  serenely. 

"A  solid  silver  chafing  dish,"  he  replied  without 
hesitation,  "at  the  very  least,  big  enough  to  hold 
five  pounds  of  brown  stewed  fish  sweet  and  sour." 

THE    END 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


DEC  14 1990    ., 
DEC  1 1 1990  REC'O 


50m-l,'69(J5643s8)2373 — 3A.1 


STORED  AT  NRL 


